Sarah vs Finding Herself
by Thinkling
Summary: Post series story. Sarah finds herself, not just in her memories, but in Chuck and the love of the people who care about her. It's a story of the rebuilding of a life, the restoration of a future, and love's triumph over tragedy. There's some of everything CHUCK: romance and drama, heart and humor, even a little action and adventure.
1. Lost

~** Lost ~**

**A/N:** Since the story is now finished, the author's notes have been reduced and adjusted accordingly. Acknowledgments, thank yous, comments, and disclaimers will go here and at the end of the story, rather than cluttering each chapter with lots of repetitive stuff.

My thanks to atcDave for his encouragement throughout. He kept me on track and pre-reviewed each chapter. And to the readers who reviewed: you encouraged me greatly and also helped me persevere. I can't thank you enough for your kind words and generous reviews. I know that all authors must appreciate reviews, but as a first time author, they were/are especially meaningful to me.

_Sarah vs Finding Herself _picks up during the finale at the end of the mission at the Pacific Concert Hall. The first two chapters accompany the finale, adding extra scenes, Sarah's thoughts, Chuck's telling of their story, and what happens after the kiss. The last chapter takes place two years later.

My timeline doesn't align with air dates, but it is canon compatible and internally cohesive. (Santa Suit and Baby are anchored to Christmas 2011. After that, the timeline can be a little squishy, since there are no definitive dates on screen.) This story places the beginning of _Chuck vs Sarah_ at Feb 20th.

For clarity, Sarah's dreams and memories will be ...

~^~^~  
><em>sandwiched between squiggles <em>_italicized.  
>~^~^~<em>

Oh, and I don't own Chuck or Sarah or NBC. If I did Chuck would be airing its back nine and be renewed long into my geriatric years. :)

I loved writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it.  
>~<em>Thinkling<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Pacific Concert Hall<br>Sunday Evening, March 11, 2012**

They did it. Apparently she helped. The Chinese general is safe. General Beckman is in one piece, instead of several million. The crowd goes wild over Jeffster, blissfully unaware that they have Chuck Bartowski to thank for the luxury of walking out of the concert hall and going back to their lives. _I wish I could go back to mine._ The mission was a success. She should feel happier. As glad as she is that Quinn is dead, and everyone else is not, her heart just doesn't feel the celebration. Along with the the adrenaline let down, Sarah feels … lost.

**Castle  
>Monday Morning, March 12<strong>

After debriefing them, General Beckman leaves them with her thanks and an open invitation to save the world anytime they want. _Wow, we must have been good._ For the umpteenth time she wishes she could remember her life.

Colonel Casey hugs (_?!_) Chuck goodbye. Sarah looks down, feeling awkward about intruding on the personal moment. She doesn't have to be a spy to see how hard this is for Chuck. His heart is in his eyes, as she's observed it so often is. A part of her doesn't want to leave him. The rest of her desperately needs to sort things out, so with her heart in her eyes, she tells him, "I need some time to think, to be alone. ... I'm sorry." She turns and starts up the steps.

"You know Morgan has this idea," his voice calls her back. "It's nutty really, that if we ..." _Talk to me, Chuck. Give me a reason to stay._ "You have to go. I understand." His eyes brimming with tears, he lets her go.

She turns and forces her feet up the stairs, not trusting herself to look back.

Sarah gets in her car. At least she assumes it's her car. The keys Chuck handed her the morning of the DARPA mission unlocked this car. It's registered in her name. Ergo, it's her car. While she drives, she reviews the last three weeks of her life, a nightmare worthy of the Twilight Zone_._

Three weeks ago, she woke up completely incognizant of the last 5 years of her life. As far as she knew, she was the same Agent Walker she had been five years ago - Director Graham's wild card enforcer. She was briefed by a handler she didn't remember about a mark she didn't recognize and went to her assignment, unaware that Sarah Bartowski ever existed ... or that her target was, in fact, her own husband.

24 hrs later, through her own video logs, she had learned of the unlikely love that had captured her heart, the happy person she had become, and the cruel loss of all of it. She believed that her happy life was irretrievably lost, stolen along with her memories, and that she had been irreversibly reset to Agent Walker ... Spy.

Now, after the events of the last 5 days, she is sure of exactly one thing: Agent Walker no longer exists. She is not the woman she thought she was when she woke up three weeks ago, and she doesn't know the woman who took her place ... the woman she became, because of Chuck Bartowski.

_Chuck._ She lets out a long breath. Though she still doesn't remember him, he's no longer the total stranger he was when he offered her a massage—she smiles—or when he pleaded with her to remember him, refused to lift a finger against her, and then dove in front of Quinn's bullet ... the bullet aimed at her. The memory still tugs at her heart.

She learned a lot about him in a short period of time. He's charming, sweet, caring ... and he loves her. He's different from other spies—or other men, for that matter—and she's different when she's with him. It's like he connects with her on some ... other level. He elicits responses from a part of her she didn't know existed. _How does he do that?_ On top of all of that, he's a gentle hero with a courageous heart, willing to take the weight of the world on his shoulders and do the right thing.

Like her video self, she has never known anyone quite like this man. She's beginning to understand why she fell for him, why she loved Chuck Bartowski. Somewhere inside her, a voice whispers that she still does. _That's not possible. ... Is it?_

Sarah pulls her car to the curb at her hotel, gets out, and tosses the keys to the valet. He lets out a low whistle. She tenses, ready to flatten him, until she notices that he's not even looking at her. His eyes sweep the Lotus from front to back to front again. He smiles at her. "Sweet ride, Mrs. B."

_What?_ "Um, Thanks."

"Never thought you'd give up the Porsche, though. What happened to it?"

_Good question. I wish I knew._ With an innocent smile, she shrugs, adjusts her sun glasses, and walks to the door. _I don't have to explain my choice of vehicle to the valet. ... Do I?_

The doorman smiles as he opens the door for her, "Well, look who's back. It's always nice to see you and"—he glances past her, his smile fading, when he sees she is alone—"ah ... how are you today?"

She smiles back. "Fine, thank you." _Not really._

She turns to make a b-line for the elevator, hoping to avoid the cheeriness of all the people who remember her and her car and other minutia, like where they spent the last five years, doing what, and with whom. She stops in her tracks and cringes, remembering that she owes money on her room ... and the broken window.

_Maybe the person at the desk won't know me._

She steps to the counter and rings the bell. From the inner office emerges a pleasant looking older man with a rumpled shirt and crooked glasses. Seeing her, his face brightens with a warm smile. _No such luck._ "Mrs Bartowski." He removes his glasses, and Sarah notices the way his crows feet frame his kind eyes. He studies her face. "You look better today—lovely as always, of course—but more like your old self."

As annoying as it is that the concierge knows her old self better than she does, she can't suppress a small smile at his genuine interest in her well being. "Thank you"—she sneeks a peek at his name tag—"Mr. Ford."

"Aah, don't be so formal. It's just Hank, remember?"

_Actually I don't._ "Okay, Hank." she smiles. "I'd like to settle my accounts."

He crinkles his brow. "But, you don't owe anything."

"Yes. I owe you for my room, and the ah, you know, the broken window."

"Nope. That's all taken care of. Just a day or so after the"—he leans closer and lowers his voice—"window incident, a man came by with a check from Carmichael Industries to cover all the damages. Then he gave me his personal credit card and told me to put your room on his tab for as long as you needed it. I told him I thought you were leaving, but he said you'd be back, and that I was to keep your room ready for you." Hank furrows his brow, staring down at the counter.

"Oh. Okay." Sarah smiles. _Must have been Chuck._

"John. That was his name." Sarah's eyes widen in shock, but she manages to keep her mouth closed. "I asked him where Chuck was, but he just grunted. Then I said sorry, that I just hoped you two were okay. He glared at me and sort of ... growled, 'they will be.' I was afraid to ask him anything else."

_Wow, Casey really had become a friend._ "Don't let it bother you, Hank. John's just ..." _John. Weird._ "well, he can be kind of ... protective sometimes." _I guess._

"I noticed," Hank deadpans.

Sarah takes a step back. "Well, I ..."

Hank isn't finished. "Sooo, how's Chuck?" His eyes sparkle with mirth.

"Oh, he's fine." _Liar._

"Good. That's good. Well, as always, everybody around here wishes you the best."

Sarah pulls out her key. "Thank you, Hank," she says, meaning it.

Hank just can't stop himself. "You know you two were the longest running pool we ever had around here." Sarah raises an eyebrow. "Yup, the winner took his family to Disneyland ... We never could figure how two people so much in love with each other could take so long to do something about it." Hank beams. Sarah swallows, her gaze sliding to the window, then the clock behind Hank, finally fixing on the bell on the counter. Hank notices her unease and lets her go. "Well, you've got things to do. Have yourself a nice day, Mrs. Bartowski."

She walks into room 832, her eyes roaming everywhere, hoping for a spark of recognition, anything familiar. _I lived here for three years? It's so ... green._

The thing is, though, she hasn't lived here for the last two years. Three weeks ago, this room was just the stage for an elaborate deception—the machinations of a megalomaniacal, memory-stealing monster. She shudders. _Who would do such a thing? Who could be so evil?_ She's overcome with the urge to punch something or throw something ... or shoot Quinn. Again. She had a good life, and he stole it from her. She paces, but there's not enough room. Because of Quinn, she could have killed an innocent man, a genuinely good man. And not just any good man, but her own husband.

Husband.

She still can't wrap her brain around that one.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands clenching the bedspread and her body thrumming with frustration. A good workout. That's what she needs. Instinctively she looks to the empty space where her heavy bag should be ...

_~^~^~  
>She pommels the heavy bag with the same fury she feels now. Punch. Punch. Punch. Kick. ... ughn ... punch-punch-punch-punch-punch.<br>~^~^~_

Knock, knock, knock. She looks toward the door ... _Chuck?_

_~^~^~  
>Chuck hands her a red box and ambles into the room. "Brought you a present."<em>

_She takes the box. "Well, it's not my birthday."_

_"Ohh, one down, 364 and a quarter possibilities to go."  
>~^~^~<em>

She closes her eyes and smiles at the—her eyes pop open—memory! That was a memory. Of what she has no idea, but some of her anger drains away.

The persistent knocking drags her from her reverie. The door. Right. She answers it, oddly disappointed when it turns out to be a bellhop and not Chuck. _Of course, it's not Chuck. You told him you needed space._ "Hank, asked me to bring this receipt to a Mrs. Sarah Bartowski, in room 832."

_According to my driver's license, that's me._ "Thank you." She takes the receipt and smiles, shutting the door.

Staying here in this green cage is not helping. After throwing on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and boots, she heads out the door.

_I have to go find myself._

Sarah misses her Porsche, how she could put the top down and let the wind blow away the fog of work and daily tedium ... and think. But not in this claustrophobic Lotus. _I want my Porsche back ... I want my life back. What did happen to my Porsche?_ She heads west, not thinking about anything in particular, except for the ocasional random thought. Emphasis on random—really, really random. Like when her stomach growls, and all of a sudden she's thinking about chicken pepperoni. _Have I ever even eaten chicken pepperoni?_ Or when she passes a mansion situated on a huge property, and a vision of a tiger napping on a king size bed floats through her mind. Finally when she reaches the coastal highway, the image of a big, blue marlin invades her thoughts. _That's it. I've lost my memories *and* my marbles._ She drives faster. By now her stomoch growls with an insistence she can't ignore. Time for lunch. She pulls into a diner to grab some lunch to go. The burgers look great, so she orders a cheese burger, fries, and—she glances at the drink selection—Hi-C fruit punch. _What! Where did that come from? What am I nine?_ She places her order, "Yes, I'd like a double cheeseburger, medium rare with extra pickles, fries, and three bottles of water, please."

**An Unknown Beach**

She didn't map out a destination. She just drove here, wherever here is, and parked. Her cheeseburger consumed and one bottle of water drained, she gets out of the car and saunters to the shore. Sarah closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky. She fills her lungs with cool sea air and lets out a cleansing breath.

She looks out at the ocean, absorbed in the moment, the sun and the breeze lifting her mood and clearing her head. Tension and frustration ebb away with the tide. She walks along the shore with no plan and no urge to run. She is simply Sarah—stripped to her core—alone with the sand and the sea and her thoughts.

She watches a piece of drift wood as it rises and falls, carried by the caprice of the currents. She feels adrift. She can't go back, and she doesn't know how to go forward.

Unbidden, Graham's words come back to her on every wave. _The question is who are you?_ Now as then, she has no answer.

She can't go back to being the spy she was before Chuck. She's not that person any more.

_Chuck_.

A man became the dividing line of her life. He changed her. He changed her entire existence. The life she had before Chuck ... is no more. All this time she thought her life with Chuck was erased along with her memories, but the truth is that it's her life before Chuck that no longer exists.

Cruel twist. The life she remembers doesn't exist, and the life she now knows is real she doesn't remember.

The only life to go back to is her life with Chuck. But how can she go back to a life she doesn't remember?

That only leaves forward. Right. How can she go forward, if she doesn't know who she is?

_Bingo._

That's her life story. New town, new con, new name, new mission, new cover. There was always someone to define her world and tell her who to be: first her dad, then Director Graham. Not any more. Chuck could tell her, but it's pretty clear by now that he won't just tell her who to be.

_Chuck. He knows me better than I know myself. Okay, right now, even Hotel Hank knows me better than I know myself, but that's beside the point. … Sigh._

No matter which direction she looks, there's Chuck. He is her past and probably her only hope to find herself and move forward. But is it fair to him, a wife who doesn't remember him or them ... their wedding, their dreams, or even who she is or was? If she's totally honest, she'll admit that the inner voice is right. On some level, she still loves him. _Is that enough?_ She wants her life back, the one that was taken from her. She just doesn't know if it's possible. Or how …

Finding herself back where she started, she sits down to enjoy the afternoon sun and loses track of time. Her thoughts ebb and flow with the tide, until they dissolve into the rhythm and sounds of the sea.

Chuck sits down beside her. "I was hoping you'd be here."

He found her. _How does he do that? It's … oddly comforting._ "This place is important, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, very much. This is actually where you told me I was going to be OK, that I could trust you. And that's exactly what I'm doing now. I'm asking you to trust me."

Does she trust him? Yes. But she's so unsure of everything else. Will she ever be the woman he remembers? How can she not disappoint him? What if she never remembers? What if she fails?

"Sarah, I don't want anything from you. I just need you to know that wherever you go I will always be there to help you."

She nods. _Wait ... he doesn't want anything from me?_

"Someone you can call, whenever."

She looks at him through her tears. _He loves me._

"Trust me, Sarah."

_He'll help me._

"I'm here for you always."

Desire wars with doubt, and she lets out a heavy sigh. She looks out at the ocean again and finds an answer that wasn't there before. ... She is not alone.

Memory or no, this man is her husband ... her life.

And she wants to be part of her own life again. "Chuck, tell me our story."

He smiles, his heart in his eyes. She returns a small smile of her own, and in that timid smile, she gives him her trust.

For the first time in three weeks, she feels like she is going to be okay.


	2. Found: Known and Loved

**~ Found: Known and Loved ~**

**Their Beach ... Their Story**

"Yeah, yeah, ah, where to begin. Well, ah, it started with a guy who worked at a Buymore. And then one day an old college friend of his sent him an email that was filled with secrets. And then the next day, his life really changed when he met a spy named Sarah ... and he fell in love."

A tear rolls down her cheek, and something inside Sarah breaks free. Her heart expands at the knowledge that someone fell in love with her.

"You walked into the Buymore and up to the Nerd Herd counter with a broken phone, which after I stopped babbling like an idiot, I fixed. You were nice ... and so beautiful. I think I fell in love with your eyes first, not that I didn't notice all of you. I did. But one look from your beautiful blue eyes ... one smile, and I was a goner. After I fixed your phone, you started to make small talk, but we were interrupted by a panic stricken dad and his daughter in a pink tutu. He had filmed her ballet recital with no tape in the camcorder, so I excused myself to go save his marriage. I let him film her routine in front of the wall of TVs. By the time I got back, you were gone, and your card was on the counter.

"You told me later, after we were together, that that was when you started to fall for me … watching me help the ballerina."

Even without remembering the incident, Sarah feels an unexpected flare of affection.

This time she smiles as he tells her how nervous he was and how amazing she was on their first date. She is riveted to his account of the evening's sudden shift from amazing date to bizarre and terrifying adventure, with car chases and crashes, the rooftop stand-off with Casey.

"You said, 'don't freak out,' just before you aimed your gun at me. … Which totally freaked me out, by the way." She chuckles. Then Chuck tells her about flashing on General Stanfield and about the bomb ... and Irene Demova.

_Irene Demova!_ A memory explained.

"Besides the very obvious, like how beautiful you were and what a sexy dancer, I learned that you were fearless, protective, and deadly with knives." He ticks the qualities off on his fingers. "You had a strong sense of duty, and you were a force to be reckoned with. I also realized that you cared about people ... about doing the right thing, not just the right _spy_ thing, the _right_ thing." Sarah raises her eyebrows, and Chuck nods. "Mm-hmm, you could have turned me over to Casey and gone back to your exciting spy life, having fulfilled your duty." _I couldn't have done that. _"But you couldn't do that to someone you knew was innocent. You fought for me, Sarah, and for my family and my friends.

"Overnight, my life was turned completely upside down. I became property—not an employee, but property—of the United States government. But you always saw me as a real person, not just 'the asset.' That's what Beckman always called me, even when I was sitting right there." Chuck impersonates Beckman, "'Take the asset with you. See if he flashes on anything.'" _Wow, Beckman, really changed._ "You kept me out of a bunker, several times, and helped me survive in a world that was completely foreign to me."

_So, Chuck knows what it's like to wake up in a life that doesn't feel like your own._ Sarah is suddenly moved with compassion for this man and what he must have gone through.

"Sooo ... what started out as a date with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen turned into a life-long adventure with the most amazing woman I've ever known."

Sarah can't help smiling at his words and their utter sincerity. Her heart speeds up with anticipation for the rest of the story.

"The more missions we went on, the more we were together, the harder I fell for you. The more we pretended to be a couple, the less pretend it felt, and the more I wanted _us_ to be real."

Her heart constricts, and she remembers her own long-buried desire for a real family and the perfect home.

"Carina's first appearance crystallized my thinking on some things." _Carina. Uh-oh._ "I was still such a neophyte in all things spy, and being around Carina, I realized just how naive I was, how much you shielded me from the spy world, and how different you were from other spies. It gave me a new appreciation for your selflessness and your capacity to forgive"—he looks at her with a crooked smile—"because I screwed up on a regular basis."

She can't help laughing. Just when he makes her want to cry, he says something funny and makes her laugh. _Is he always like this?_ With each story he tells, her laughter is freer and her heart a little lighter.

He looks to the horizon, then looks right at her. "By this time," he continues, "I knew I was in love with you. I wanted so much to know you better, but you were, you know, a spy; and everything about you was top secret. So, I observed everything, how you liked your pizza and cheeseburgers and sushi. I figured out your favorite flower and memorized your wardrobe." She crooks an eyebrow. "What? No. Not like that. I just ... wanted to know something real about you, like your real name or where you grew up. All those things that people in normal relationships know about each other by the end of the first date ... I didn't know about you. So it became my secret sub-mission to find out."

_Not as secret as you thought, Chuck._ Even though Sarah knows this from her video log, it's different hearing it from Chuck. It makes her feel … like a normal person with someone who loves her.

When Chuck tells her about the real breakup of their fake relationship, it suddenly clicks for her how hard it must have been for both of them: falling in love as asset and handler. He tells her again about their first real kiss and how absolutely amazing it was, only this time he goes into a little more detail. She hopes the heat spreading through her doesn't show in her cheeks.

Chuck tells her about Bryce's first return, his own recurring, Bryce-induced insecurity, and Bryce's coded invitation for her to leave with him. "I was so sure you'd be on the first plane out of Burbank with Bryce. And I wouldn't have blamed you. Bryce was cool, and you two had history. I was just a putz with a pocket protector. Even the computer in my brain seemed dull compared to what Bryce could give you. So, I called your phone. A lot. And stayed awake all night. I finally started to breath again when you showed up for work the next day." He gives her a bright smile that quickens her pulse.

Sarah is so immersed in his story—their story—her story—that she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, inwardly breathing an unexpected sigh of relief.

Chuck recalls their perfect, and perfectly terrifying, second first-date and the imposing Mr. Colt, their steamy second kiss and the colorful Roan adventure, including Chuck's Tarzan rescue from the Buymore roof. Then he talks a little bit about Bryce's second return.

Sarah is touched and amazed one minute and tingly the next, then bursts out laughing at the hysterical image Chuck paints of himself swinging from the Buymore roof and colliding with Sasha Banacheck.

Oddly, she finds herself wishing Bryce would leave them alone.

Chuck's voice brings her back from her thoughts. "During that time, I had a couple of important epiphanies, the first thanks to Roan. When I was ready to charge in and rescue you and Casey, Roan asked me a defining question. Having already deduced that I was in love with you—no spy skills needed there; even Jeff had that one figured out—Roan said to me, 'But Charles, you have to ask yourself, is she worth dying for?'" Chuck ignores Sarah's soft gasp. "Since that day, my answer has never wavered, Sarah." He holds her gaze. "The answer is yes. You are worth dying for."

She can't look away. It's one of the things she knows about him first hand. Vest or no vest, she knows he would still have dived in front of that bullet.

"The second epiphany, coming as it did from Bryce, had both good-news and bad-news components. In the middle of the Von Hayes mission, he told me that you had real feelings for me—that was good. Feelings that could get you killed—and that was bad. So, when the mission was over, I died for you in a different way. I broke up with you."

_Oh, Chuck._ Another tear slips down her cheek. Sarah absorbs every word of Chuck's version of their story. It is the companion to her video log. Each anecdote, suffused with warmth and beauty, hums with a love that resonates deep in her soul.

Chuck scrambles back to the safe ground of humor and entertains her with the story of Heather Chandler's surprise visit. He confesses that his irrepressible curiosity about her past landed them in the middle of a mission to stop the sale of super-bomber plans to the Russian mob. Sarah laughs at his hilarious account of their double date and Special Agent Charles "Mad-dog" Carmichael. As the story progresses she feels a growing love—no, not love, fondness—for this man. Yeah, fondness. _Liar_.

"I guess it was the season for epiphanies, because I had a couple more. First, I realized for myself that you loved me. Other people had told me, but that night at the reunion, I saw it in your eyes, in the way you looked at me. And I knew that you loved me. That epiphany lead to another."

Sarah goes very still, suddenly fascinated by a loose thread on the sleeve of her sweater.

"After the mission I brought you a cheeseburger, and you offered me the holy grail."

Curiosity gets the better of her, and she looks at him, eyebrows raised. "The holy grail?"

"Mm-hmm. The object of my quest: to know something real about Sarah Walker. You told me you would answer one question about your past. I was honored by your trust, but I said, 'No thanks. I don't need to know more, not about who you were, because as much as you don't think so, I know who you are.'

"And it was true. I realized that I knew the girl, the woman, inside the spy. The essential part of you that makes you ... you. The rest didn't matter."

Sarah's eyes shine with unshed tears. This time she can't pull her eyes away from Chuck's gentle gaze.

His voice is soft, but he speaks with love and absolute conviction, "You need to know that you're still that person, Sarah, even if you can't remember. The qualities that make you you ... they're still there. I see them. Quinn erased your memories. He didn't erase you.

"You also need to know that I've never wanted you to be anything other than just you. I love _you_, Sarah, not a certain version of you, but the you that Quinn couldn't touch. This isn't about getting something right or remembering certain things ... or trying to be the woman I remember. You can't fail at this. It's just you being yourself and me loving you. That's all it's ever been."

Sarah wipes away the tears streaming down her face and hugs her knees to her chest, pulling her hands deeper into the sleeves of her sweater. His love is amazing … healing … and completely overwhelming.

Chuck lightens things up with tales of Lichtenstein and Jack Burton's sale of Nakamichi plaza to a very dangerous Arab. He regales her with the story of their off-the-books CIA sting and Schnook and Cop Face. She can picture her dad as Chuck tells the story, and soon she is laughing again.

Her heart flip flops when he tells her about the charm bracelet, and her toes curl when he talks about the morning in Barstow.

Chuck's rendition of Ellie's first wedding has Sarah in stitches, and his description of the beach wedding melts her heart. She spirals as Chuck recounts the confusion that followed: the interrupted dance and the unfinished conversation, Bryce's death and Chuck's 2.0 upload, and his subsequent decision to become a real spy.

He tells her that they went through a really difficult period during his training: the distance between them and dating other people. Her heart aches with a sadness she can't explain.

"Then I had another epiphany. I had made it. There I was Special Agent Chuck Bartowski. I had the badge, the gun, the villa, the stipend, and I was ... miserable." He holds her gaze. "It finally clicked for me that you were the most important thing. There wasn't any point in being a spy—or anything else, for that matter—without you.

"You were going to go to DC with Shaw, and I had to stop you. I found you in Castle, and for the first time, I said the words that had been burning a hole in my heart for three years. I finally said, 'I love you.' Emphatically. Four times."

Sarah smiles, her whole being still with anticipation.

"I told you, 'you were right in Prague. You and I, we're perfect for each other, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, away from everyone else and away from this spy life.' I asked you not to leave with Shaw, to run away with me instead. Then I kissed you. It was sort of our 3rd first kiss."

Sarah smiles with a mixture of relief and an emotion that she reluctantly acknowledges feels like love.

He tells her that, unbeknownst to him, her plans to join him were interrupted by Shaw and that he and Beckman thought that Shaw might be out to kill her. Her eyes grow wider, and her eyebrows climb higher. Her mouth drops open, as he tells her about his elaborate rescue and Beckman's subsequent eruption.

"You didn't!" she asks, incredulous.

"Oh, but I did. … You said you appreciated the tank."

She smiles and shakes with laughter.

"Needless to say, I was benched. I went home to drown my sorrows in whiskey and ice cream. You found me in a melancholy, drunken haze ... in my boxers ... strumming a plastic guitar."

Sarah giggles, in spite of herself.

"It was then or never, so that's when I asked you if you loved me. You hesitated. Then you let out a little sigh and looked away. I figured I was quite the fool, at that point. But then, you said, 'Yes.' ... Four times, actually. My heart soared. But then everything went sideways. Again. It's a long and complicated story, one for another day, but we ended up in Paris. Shaw tried to kill you, and I shot him."

Her brow furrows. _I thought Chuck didn't shoot people._

"The next day, we made love for the first time. It was"—he looks at her with heart-stopping adoration—"everything I ever imagined … and so much more."

A fire spreads through her. She swallows, her heart racing and face burning. Caught off guard by the sensation and not wanting to betray her feelings—not even really understanding where they come from or what to do with them—she studies the horizon.

Chuck does the same and waits for her emotions to catch up. When he senses she's ready, he tells her about their amazing train trip, about running away, then not running away, about moving in together. A sense of contentment settles into her heart like a cozy fire on a winter day.

He tells her how happy they were living together and that she gradually adjusted to having a real home. He talks about the night she finally unpacked and the picture of the two of them she kept in her suitcase, "You told me it made you feel comfortable, safe. Then you said, 'I know that it's probably taken me longer than a normal girl, but you should know that you're my home, Chuck. You always have been."

_~^~^~  
>The love in his eyes draws her in. He kisses her, then lifts her off the ground and throws her on the bed.<br>~^~^~_

"And you threw me on the bed?"

Chuck's face splits with a big smile. "Yeah. I did. … Wait, you remembered?"

"Just you kissing me and throwing me on the bed." She leaves out the part about the happiness that surged through her with the memory.

"But, see, that's a good thing. It's not a long memory, but it means that some of your memories are still rolling around in there."

She smiles.

"That night my mouth got ahead of my brain and I sort of started thinking about getting married and having kids … out loud … in your ear."

Sarah chuckles with amusement, somehow unsurprised by his confession.

"That launched us into a sort of awkward phase of talking about marriage. You said you needed to take things slow. And we were. But I guess you had an epiphany of your own, because one night, when you thought I was asleep, you said, 'I love you, Chuck. Nothing's ever going to change that. And if you asked me for real, then my answer would be yes.'"

Her jaw drops.

He smiles and shrugs. "It's true. ... I didn't dare say anything or even move. … But I did start planning the ultimate proposal."

He tells her that things took a left turn. Again. This time with their hunt for his mom, so the proposal got back burnered. She nods, anxious for him to get to the proposal. He tells her about his failed restaurant proposal, and she laughs, both amused and touched by his grand romantic gestures.

He talks about planning to propose at the villa in France because she was so taken with how beautiful and romantic it was." She cocks an eyebrow, and he nods. "Morgan was my wing-man." Now both of Sarah's eyebrows go up. Chuck laughs and explains that she overheard them planning the proposal sub-mission. "Later, you and Morgan finally confessed to me that you intimidated him into being _your_ wing-man, and the two of you conspired to make sure the proposal happened."

Her jaw drops. "Morgan and I ... ran a sub sub-mission to insure the success of your sub-mission to propose?" _This has to be true. Nobody would make up something this crazy. I just wish I could remember it … all of it._

"I know it may sound crazy, but you and Morgan bonded when I was kidnapped by the Belgian—another long story that Morgan will have to tell you. Anyway, he thinks of you as his best-friend-in-law, and you had a similar affection for him."

It's a lot to wrap her brain around. Nonetheless, Sarah is anxious to hear the rest of it.

"It was perfect, Sarah. The sky was clear and full of stars. From the balcony we could see the full moon above the fountain in the gardens. You walked onto the balcony and kissed me. You put your hands in mine and said you'd never been to any place so beautiful."

Sarah is transfixed, holding her breath.

"I looked at the view then back at you and said, 'I have. Every day. Every morning I wake up and I look at you. When we brush our teeth tandem style,' ... you giggled at that ... 'when we watch TV together, anything, always. Every time I look at you, it's the most beautiful place I've ever been.' Then I got nervous and started babbling about feeling like I should be James Bond, because I've always felt like you deserve so much better than me. You interrupted and told me you didn't fall in love with James Bond. You fell in love with me."

Sarah swallows.

"That was all I needed. You were smiling at me, so I said, 'Sarah I'm gonna ask you a question right now, so please don't freak out, okay?' Still holding both my hands and looking at me, you said, 'I won't.'

So, I finally said what was in my heart, 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you, going on missions, saving the day, being heroes, but mostly though, I just want to be with you. By your side. Always.' I got the ring box out of my pocket and opened it, and you smiled really big."

Sarah is smiling now, her eyes brimming with tears.

"But as I said your name and started to go down on one knee, there was this huge commotion. Flood lights came on, and a CIA assault team repelled down onto the balcony. We were surrounded by six men all decked out in BDU with their automatic weapons trained on us. … And they arrested you ... for treason."

Sarah gasps. "No. Chuck, no." He gives a sympathetic nod. "Why would they do that?" She feels angry, confused, scared, and ... sad.

"It's another long story, but the short version is that Beckman had set you up, without telling you, or me. She did it to establish your cover as a double agent to send you under cover to help my mom bring down Volkoff. So you left, willingly, on a mission to bring back my mom. Once again the spy life had intruded on our normal life."

Chuck touches her arm. "We are married, Sarah"—he holds up his left hand, flashing his wedding ring—"so it all worked out. We took down Volkoff and rescued my mom. We even got everybody to the hospital just in time for Clara's birth. While you and I were waiting in the hallway for the blessed arrival, enjoying being together after a long time apart, I looked at you ... so glad for the simple pleasure of being able to look at you. I didn't want to wait another minute, so right there in the ... terribly romantic, fluorescent haze of the hospital corridor, I took out the ring box, got down on one knee, and finished the last four words of my proposal."

Sarah looks at him pointedly with her eyebrows raised.

"You didn't say anything. You just got down on your knees with me and kissed me ... thoroughly."

Sarah gives him a dazzling smile, and lets out a long breath ... happy, relieved, and a little worn out. For Chuck these memories are all processed and catalogued. As he tells them to her, she lives each moment as if for the first time, finding missing pieces of herself, seeing herself through Chuck's eyes, and rediscovering a love for the extraordinary man she is getting to know.

Chuck tells her a little bit about their engagement period, about getting their wedding feet, and how after finding the right dress, everything else was a cake walk. She doubles over laughing at the two of them trying to seduce each other and can't stop laughing over the whole wedding planner debacle. Then, she is stunned into silence, when Chuck tells her that her dad paid for their wedding.

Chuck gets quiet and studies the horizon.

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell me about our wedding?"

"Oh. Right. Sarah ... do you want to hear about our wedding?" His eyes dance with mirth.

Her soft expression turns to mischief. "Well, you keep telling me we're married ... so, Chuck ... spill it."

"Okay. Well, _**our**_ wedding day was the happiest day of my life, the day I had dreamed of for ... several years actually." He gives her a tender smile, then waggles his eyebrows.

Her smile in response to his charm comes naturally now.

"It was a little different from my dream, though, following as it did on the heels of my worst nightmare." His smile fades, and his eyes grow distant.

Sarah nudges him, and he goes on to explain about the Norseman device, their international detours to rescue his mother, recover the exotic, deadly weapon, and make it to their rehearsal dinner on time. She shakes her head, incredulous. Then he tells her that she was shot with the Norseman—from Moscow—and collapsed at their rehearsal dinner; ~_no way~_ that Ellie and Devon got her to the hospital and into a tub of ice to slow the spread of the radiation poison; and that she lapsed into a coma soon after whispering, "Don't freak out."

Sarah gets very still. Her smile fades, and she looks at the sea. He pauses to let her process. She finally nods for him to continue. She swallows against the lump in her throat when he tells her that Ellie and Devon stayed with her round the clock, doing everything medically possible to keep her alive; that Morgan held her hand and told her stories, never leaving her side; and that Casey and his mom helped him get the antidote.

Her mind reels from information overload. She never expected this. Who is she kidding. She never expected most of the things she's learned this afternoon. _Apparently my life with Chuck was every bit as exciting as my pre-Chuck spy life and even more dangerous._

He tells her about racing through the hospital to get the antidote to Ellie and his agony while he waited. "I was so afraid, Sarah. I've never been so terrified in my life. And that's saying a lot, considering how often I've been dangled from high places and almost blown up." His voice breaks in spite of his humor. "But the antidote worked, and pretty soon your gorgeous baby blues blinked up at me ..." his eyes lock with hers, "and my world was right again."

Sarah breaks eye contact and releases a shuddering breath. "So, was the wedding postponed?" Her voice comes out a little rusty.

"Only a day. Come on ... you're Sarah. You can do anything."

She listens, spellbound, as he tells her about their wedding, "When I saw you at the other end of the aisle, so beautiful, so alive"—Chuck swallows—"it hit me how things might have turned out, and my knees almost buckled. Then you smiled at me. ... Did I mention how absolutely gorgeous you looked? ... At your smile, my fears of what might have been were replaced by the happiness of what was."

Sarah puts her hand on his arm and asks the question she's wondered ever since she found out she was really married, "Chuck, Who gave me away?"

Chuck's smile widens, "Yeah, funny thing about that. Since your dad couldn't be there, you decided to walk yourself down the aisle. Just as you smiled at me, ready to take your first step, Casey stepped up beside you and said something to you."

_~^~^~  
>"Bartowski's a good man."<em>

_"The best." Her smile widens, as Chuck smiles back at her from the front of the church._

_"No better than you deserve. You deserve to be happy, Sarah. So does he. You're a great spy, but this is what you've always wanted."_

_She smiles, still looking at Chuck. "I know."_

_"I'd be honored to walk this distance with the best partner I've ever had, so she can marry the 2nd best partner I've ever had."_

_She turns and smiles at her friend. "Thank you, John."_

_"Good. Then we can be done with all these lady feelings, and things can go back to normal." Casey winks._

_She laughs softly and takes his arm. He grunts, and they start down the aisle  
>~^~^~<em>

She doesn't tell Chuck about the memory. She doesn't want to spoil the magic of his story. She wants—no, needs—to hear Chuck tell it.

Chuck cocks his head and studies her, then finishes. "I don't know what he said, but next thing I knew, you took Casey's arm and walked down the aisle."

Chuck looks out at the ocean, lost in thought. When he looks back at Sarah, she raises her eyebrows and gives him a pointed look. He grins. "Oh, you're waiting for me to tell you the rest of it." She punches his arm. "Ow." He gives her a mock pout. His playful side makes her smile.

"Okay, okay." They're both laughing. "When you got to the front of the church, Casey gave you a kiss on the cheek and took his place as a groomsman. You handed your bouquet to Ellie and took my hands. After a few words from Morgan"—she raises a skeptical eyebrow, so he clarifies—"Morgan officiated at our wedding."

"Of course, he did," she deadpans.

Chuck clears his throat. "Anyway, you said your vows to me just like you practiced them, only without the doily." He draws a circle in the air over her head.

"You said, 'Chuck, you're a gift. You're a gift I never dreamed I could want or need, and every day, I will show you that you're a gift that I deserve. You make me the best person I could ever hope to be, and I want to spend and learn and love the rest of my life with you.'

"My heart was like the size of a pumpkin. Ellie and Zondra and Carina were smiling and wiping at tears. Devon said even Casey's eyes were a little moist.

Sarah smiles, blinking back her own tears.

"Then it was my turn. I paused and stammered. You were smiling at me with love and anticipation, and I was … speechless. After what we'd been through, words weren't good enough. Kind of like right now."

He holds out his hand out to her. She puts her hand in his and watches his eyes. He rubs his thumb over the back of her hand and holds it, "So, I scrapped my vows and said these words that were in my heart, 'They just don't cut it. I'm sorry, Sarah. How do I express the depth of my love for you … or my dreams for our future … or the fact that I will fight for you every day ... or that our kids will be like little superheroes with little capes and stuff like that.'" Sarah lets out a watery chuckle. "'Words can't express that; they don't do it justice; they just don't cut it. So, this is my vow.'" He squeezes her hand, and holds her gaze. "'I'll just prove it to you everyday for the rest of our lives. You can count on me.'"

Chuck smiles at her, his face streaked with tears. She smiles back at him, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. She wipes them away, and they lapse into a companionable silence, content to enjoy the last of the day together.

Sarah's thoughts drift back over the afternoon. She doesn't know what she expected to find here today, but something she wasn't expecting found her. Chuck. He showed her their story, her story—herself—through his eyes. He began giving her back her life and filling her heart with laughter, beauty, tears, and most of all ... love. It's a foothold. A place to start. For the first time in three weeks, she doesn't feel lost. Even with only a few memories, she knows she belongs with this man who knows her and loves her, who found her and invites her simply to be herself with him.

How to take the next step, she has no idea.

Chuck's voice pulls her from her thoughts, "You know, Morgan has this crazy idea."

"What is it?"

"He thinks that with one kiss, you'll remember everything."

"One magical kiss?" She chuckles.

"I know, it's …"

_the next step ..._ "Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He puts his hand on her back and leans in. She meets him halfway. The kiss starts out soft and tender. It feels {_Shut up and kiss me_} new ... and familiar. Sarah wraps her hand behind his neck, and the kiss goes from gentle to exploring, searching. {_the sound of the waves, his scent, the feel of his lips on hers ... a different beach ... I love you, Chuck_} Did she say that out loud? No, because he's still kissing her, and he'd better not stop. Passion ignites and the kiss grows hungry, consuming. The world fades, and time stands still. There is only this moment and the two of them. A minute or an eternity later, Sarah breaks the kiss and shifts to her knees. Chuck takes her in his arms, dips her across his lap and kisses her neck. Happiness bubbles up in her laughter, and she pulls him close for another kiss.

They finally stop, breathless. Chuck gives her a gentle smile and searches her eyes.

Sarah's gaze is soft, her words quiet, "Being with you feels right, Chuck, and talking to you is easy ... natural. Which is odd, because in some ways I just met you. It's like you're a stranger I've known all my life."—She puts her hand on his cheek—"How is that possible? How can I have these strong feelings for you and almost no memories of our life together?"

"Because your heart remembers. Quinn didn't erase your heart, Sarah. Our connection—our love—it's still in there." He stands up and pulls her up with him. "You want to walk and enjoy the sunset?" She nods.

They stroll along the shore, hand in hand, soaking in the beauty around them. As the sun sinks lower in the sky, a pelican dives for fish, and terns plunder the receding surf for sand crabs. Sarah finally voices her biggest fear, "Chuck, what if I don't remember? What if I never remember the happiest time of my life."

Chuck stops and tugs on her hand, waits for her to face him. He cups her shoulders, "Well, first of all, you're already remembering some things, so it's a little early to despair. Second, whatever you don't remember, whether it's a lot or a little, I'll tell you the stories whenever you want to hear them, even if it's three in the morning." She chuckles and rolls her eyes. He slides his hands down her arms, and tugs on her hand to continue their walk. "When I was little, before my mom left, I used to ask her to tell me about stuff I did when I was too little to remember. After she left, it fell to Ellie to answer my endless questions."

Sarah pictures a cute little boy, full of boundless energy and endless questions. She smirks at the suspicion that the little boy was probably just a smaller version of the man beside her.

"With infinite patience, they told me the stories. Some I wanted to hear again and again. Some of those stories, that I never actually remembered, are my favorite _memories_.

"As for the happiest time of your life, it's been my experience that our life together has always only ever gotten happier. You know, our time on the train together was the best time of my life; … until you moved in with me, and I knew I was the happiest I could be; … until we got engaged"—he squeezes her hand—"and I thought life could never be better. Then we got married, and everything that came before, as wonderful as it was, pales in comparison to the happiness I feel every day being married to you."

Sarah's voice is small, tinged with self doubt, "Even now ... you're still happy you're married to me?"

"Sarah." He stops and captures her gaze. "Especially now. Not so long ago, when I felt like I didn't have what it took to move forward; when I felt like I'd lost everything and failed everyone, especially you, because Decker had frozen the funds I was going to use to buy your dream home, you told me, 'Well, so what. I mean we knew this wasn't going to be easy, and we didn't get married because we thought life was easy. We got married so that we could be there for each other when things got tough, so that we could work through things together, rich or poor.' That's what husbands and wives do. They work through things together, take turns carrying the load ... and if necessary, carry each other."

She can't speak around the lump in her throat. She's getting to know the man who inspired her wedding vows.

They start to head back up the hill, but Chuck pulls on her hand. "Look, Sarah." He turns her to face the ocean, and stands behind her, wraping his arms around her. She rests her arms on his, and together they watch the sea extinguish the last of the sun's flame, leaving its coral signature across the sky. She settles against him, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "It's beautiful."

He kisses the side of her head and speaks softly in her ear, "I know present happiness grows out of past experiences, and I know that memory is a part of that. But, today, our conversation, our amazing 4th first kiss, and the beauty of this moment are now a special memory. The first of many." He tightens his arms and lowers his voice to a whisper, "Grow old with me, Sarah. The best is yet to be.*"

Twin tears of hope and happiness slide down her cheeks. _How does he do that?_

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Take me home."

They trudge through the sand back up the hill, Chuck's hand resting on her shoulder. Her tummy rumbles. "You hungry, Sarah?"

"A little." _Starving, actually._

He smiles at her gift for understatement. "Well, lucky for you I took some food out of the freezer, before I came to find you. … It's your favorite."

"Thank you, Chuck. ... And not just for dinner."

He can't speak, so he pulls her close, and they continue their trek.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"What is my favorite?"

"Your favorite"—he waggles his eyebrows—"is my famous chicken pepperoni."

She laughs. _Another random memory explained._ "I don't remember ever eating chicken pepperoni. Are you sure it's my favorite?"

"Hmm." He faces her and crosses his arms. "I suppose you could have just _said_ it was your favorite, you know, to make me feel good. You do that sometimes." He pauses for effect. "But your moans were pretty convincing." He smirks.

Sarah gapes at him, glad for the darkness that hides her blush. "I do not moan." _Do I? No._ She pushes him backwards and takes off toward the parking lot. He regains his footing and sprints after her. Arriving about the same time, they bend over, their hands on their knees, to catch their breath. When they straighten up, Chuck groans, "Oh, no." Sarah finishes his thought, "Two cars."

Chuck holds up a finger. He digs his keys out of his pocket and presses a button. The Herder's lights flash, the horn beeps, and the windshield wipers flop twice. Sarah crosses her arms and watches him. He gives her a crooked smile. "Done. Now, I can ride with you."

They get in her car, and Chuck takes out his phone. She watches, brow furrowed, as he presses *67466*#.

Startled by the close—way too close—sound of a revving engine, she stiffens, grips the wheel, and looks in the rear view mirror. Nothing. She looks over at Chuck, eyes wide. _What the ..._ He winks at her and nods out her window. She looks just in time to see the Herder slowly passing them. She faces Chuck again, eyebrows creeping higher and higher. He grins at her, holds up his phone, and taps out a rhythm on the screen. The Herder toots its horn in synch with his fingers. Her head whips around toward the sound of the horn and back again, mouth agape. His Cheshire grin fades, and he clears his throat. "It's a remote control. Casey installed the original a long time ago, but that one was big and clunky. It was still cool, just not as cool as this."—He holds up his phone.—"I programmed the app for my phone. It works kind of like some of the gaming software … only better. It's fully armed and mission ready: missile launcher, remote detonator. Casey _loved_ that part."—His face lights up.—"There are gestures to control everything. I programmed multi-touch intermittent windshield wipers and harmonic horns, radio and climate control, blinkers and flashers."

Sarah feels both astonishment and admiration. "I married such a nerd."

He shrugs and offers a self-deprecating smile.

"Chuck, why would you need radio and climate control and windshield wipers, if you're controlling it remotely?"

His eyes sparkle. "Well, technically you don't, buuut if someone else is driving ..."

They both collapse in laughter. _And I married a funny nerd._

"So, I thought, you know, we could just follow the Herder, and I can drive it from here ..." He gives her a puppy dog look.

She narrows her eyes, her spy senses in overdrive. "Chuck?"—she smiles sweetly—"have we had this conversation before?"

His mouth drops open. "You remember?"

"No. But I am a spy."

"Oh. Right." His expression turns sheepish. "We've only ever tried it out in deserted places, like the Buymore parking lot at midnight." He smiles. "I'll just leave it here with the alarm set. Besides, chicken pepperoni awaits, and I'd hate to get arrested on the way home."

She shakes her head, "Tell you what,"—_is life with Chuck always this full of surprises—_"I noticed an all-night diner a few miles down the road. We can follow the Herder that far and leave it there. I need a restroom break anyway."

He whips his head back to her, his eyes and smile wide. "Really?"

She smiles, surprisingly pleased to have made him so happy. "Mm-hmm."

**The Bartowski Apartment Complex**

They walk into the courtyard, hand in hand, still laughing about the diners' reactions to the driver-less car doing donuts in the parking lot, its horn playing the Mexican Hat Dance. Sarah's stomach growls. Again. "Sorry. I'm famished. How long will it take to heat dinner?"

"It should be ready. All we have to do is serve our plates, and pour our drinks. While you were in the restroom, I called Morgan and asked him to put it in the oven for us."

Sarah slows her pace. "I guess that means we're not coming in under the radar?"

"Well, it is Morgan, so, no. Probably not." She stops, her mood deflating. "Look, Sarah"—he pulls her over to the fountain—"hey … hey." He waits for her to look at him. "It's going to be okay. I promise." He gives her a lopsided grin. "I've got your back." She nods and searches his eyes for the confidence she doesn't feel. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and rests his hand on the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw. Her eyes travel from his eyes to his lips and back. He kisses her. She pulls him closer to prolong the kiss. Too soon he pulls away. He kisses her forehead. "Come on. You're starving. And I'm pretty sure we're not alone." He tugs her toward their apartment. "Besides, we have a couch that I happen to know is very good for kissing."

A blush rises in her cheeks. Again.

From across the courtyard, hopeful eyes are riveted to the scene at the fountain.

A happy chorus erupts: "I knew it!" ... "Awesome!" … "Squeeee!" … "Sarah."

* * *

><p>*from a Robert Browning poem.<p> 


	3. To Sleep Perchance to Dream

**~ To Sleep Perchance to Dream ~**

**Chuck and Sarah's Apartment, Monday night.**

Sarah steps inside and looks at the apartment. _This is my home._ Intellectually she knows that. She knows that she has lived here for two years, and all of her stuff is here. _I have stuff._ Not that she would recognize any of it. Spies and con men travel light. The life she remembers was hauled around in a suitcase and summed up by the stamps in her passport and a stack of expense receipts. Now she has a home … and stuff … that she doesn't recognize. But still … _she_ has a home. That's something. The concept is both strange and appealing.

She looks around the apartment, taking it all in, trying to spot her influence and Chuck's. Well, the Foosball table is a given. She suppresses a chuckle and looks back at her nerd, propped against the door frame, arms crossed, smiling and watching ... letting her take her time. Her stomach growls, and her eyes wander to the dining room table, all thoughts now on dinner. "Wow, Morgan did a good job." She admires the beautifullly set table, which includes a bottle of sparkling Catawba and a vase with gardenias. Best of all, dinner smells wonderful.

They walk toward the kitchen. "The bearded man is a culinary wonder. He would be an overnight success in the restaurant business."

"Really. ... Huh." Without thinking, Sarah retrieves the lighter from its hiding place and begins lighting the candles.

Chuck watches from the kitchen, a satisfied smile on his face. He grabs some pot holders and carries the steaming dishes to the table, "You know, you always light the candles in that order." She looks at him with a quizzical expression. "You work your way around the room clockwise and end with the candles on the table, like you just did. I'm going to put on some music. You want to get the salad out of the fridge?"

Sarah walks to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, and, like any good spy, begins to take inventory. She sees the salad and stops, her hand poised in mid-air. "Chuck?"

"Yeah, Baby?"

_Baby?_ She rolls the endearment around in her head. Did she like being called _Baby?_ Somehow it doesn't seem to bother her. "What's this?" She waggles the miniature six pack of Hi-C fruit punch.

"Ohhh, good thing you found those. Clara loves her Hi-C. I'll have to get them back to Ellie."

_Oh._ "Okay. I'll just leave them out, then."

"But you know"—he gives her his best Bartowski eyebrow dance—"it was Hi-C fruit punch that lead to our first shower together."

Her eyes go wide, and her mouth drops open. "Oh. Um ... salad." She sticks her head back in the fridge, absently wondering if Clara would miss one. _Where did that come from?_ Her face flushes hot. _Thank goodness for the cold._

Seeing her reaction, Chuck cringes and slaps his forehead, muttering what an idiot he is. "Sarah, I'm really ... I didn't mean ... I'm so sorry. I know how that must have sounded, but I was talking about … it was a mission, so it was really nothing. Well, it wasn't nothing. I wouldn't want you to think that. Showering with you is never nothing. But this was before we were even dating, so it didn't mean anything. No, that's not true, either. It was … amazing. But not like that. No. Because we had our underwear on, so it wasn't, you know ... that kind of amazing," his voice trails off. "Plus, we were trying to wash off this toxic red powder that turned out to be nothing but Hi-C fruit punch. Rootin, Tootin … Raspberry. You know what. I'll stop talking now."

Her head in the fridge, hidden by the door, Sarah smiles at his rambling, finding it … oddly endearing. The more he talks, the more tickled she gets, until she is shaking from laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks. She clamps both hands over her mouth to hold in her laughter. The incident was in her video log, minus the identity of the mystery powder, so she knows that it really was completely nothing … and totally something, all at the same time.

"Sarah …"

Swallowing her laughter and swiping the tears, she retrieves the salad from the refrigerator and stands up, her eyes still bright with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips.

As soon as he sees her face, Chuck relaxes with a sheepish smile, "Come on, let's eat."

Sarah sets the salad on the table. Chuck pulls a chair out for her, and tucks her into place. He shakes open a napkin with a flourish, drapes it over his arm, and makes a big production of serving her plate with his famous chicken pepperoni and angel hair pasta. He pours her beverage, then takes his place across from her. Sarah serves the salad, puts her napkin in her lap, and lifts her fork to dig into her dinner. Chuck's face is pure bliss, just watching his wife.

"Well, here goes." She musters a smile and tastes, as far as she remembers, her very first bite of Chuck's famous chicken pepperoni. She chews once, twice, then closes her eyes. "Mmmm." Her eyes pop open. _I do not moan._ "This is really good, Chuck. Better than good. It's wonderful. Thank you."

He doesn't try to hide his smile. "My pleasure."

Sarah's only memory of the apartment is from the evening three weeks ago. She shudders at the thought of how things might have turned out. The apartment is still the same, but everything else has changed. Taking another bite of chicken pepperoni, she listens to the soft music and looks around the room, watching the shadows dance in the glow of the candlelight. It's peaceful. So different from anything she's ever known. _Is that a good thing?_ She looks across the table, into Chuck's reassuring eyes. _Yeah, it's a good thing_. She could get used to this.

They eat for a while in comfortable silence, but Sarah can't silence the chorus of questions in her head, so she picks one. "Chuck?"

"Yeah."

"What are we going to do?"

"Well, I figure you must be exhausted, so I thought I'd draw you a bubble bath and ..."

_Hmm._ "No. I mean, a bubble bath sounds nice, but I was thinking more … big picture."

"Ohh. Big picture. Well, okay. I thought you might need a break. You know, information overload. Obviously, there's still lots more to tell you, but nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. Is there any particular part of the big picture you want to talk about, or should I just start rambling?"

That elicits a familiar smile. "No. I was wondering, um ... we're not with the CIA any more, and the spy company seems to be … well, I really don't know. We don't have jobs, so,what are we going to do for work … money?"

"Oh-kay. That's kind of a big one, so let's hit the pause button. I'll clear the table and fix some hot chocolate, unless you'd prefer coffee … or tea. Then we can move to the couch with some of Morgan's chocolate chip cookies and talk big picture."

"Okay. But you cooked, so I'll clear and put the dishes in the dishwasher." _I guess we have a dishwasher._

"Deal."

They accomplish their tasks and settle on the couch for hot chocolate, cookies and conversation. "You know, Sarah, we should make this a new tradition. Every night after dinner, we can settle in for the Bartowski story hour. I'll answer your questions or tell you about one of our adventures.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Great. Because right now I have a lot of questions. After tonight, I'll have one less."

"Yeah. ... I'll just give you the short answer, and we can go from there."

Chuck talks, and Sarah listens ... stunned. Her mind is reeling from the short answer. "Okay. So, who is Hartley? No, never mind. Whoever he is, he gave us 877 million dollars … as a wedding present. … Who does that sort of thing? … Never mind. We bought the Buymore and the space underneath it, which had been our CIA spy base. Then we started our own spy company, Carmichael Industries, with most of the money and lost the rest when Decker froze our accounts, because … how could he do that? … Never mind. We finally got both companies operating in the black. Sooo ... where does that leave us?" She's beginning to realize that the answers only breed more questions.

"Short answer, part b. Ready?"

She snags another cookie and nods. _Maybe if there was something besides cocoa in this hot chocolate._

"After we solved a major case—I mean really major—Beckman offered us our old jobs back, with a very generous signing bonus. When you and I talked about it, though, you told me that you didn't want to go back. The next day, I called Beckman to tell her that we were out, for good. I think she understood. Anyway, she said she'd process our severance package, which turned out to be more than the signing bonus. She also went to bat for us, using the big case we solved as leverage, to expedite the release of our money. It's in process, but for now the government is paying interest on the money, which is a pretty big chunk of change. … Sarah, you look kind of zoned out. You with me?"

She nods.

"Okay. One more little detail. We sold the Buymore, just the business, not the space, to Subway, who now leases the above-ground space from us. Soo, money wise, we're set. … Which means our options are wide open. You had come up with a new idea for Carmichael Industries, something more tech-y, less dangerous, but still spy-ish. That's one option, but we can do anything, whatever you want. In the mean time, for as little or as much time as you want, we can take a sabbatical and figure it out … together." He smiles, gauging her reaction.

Her brow still knit, she finally speaks, "Wow, that really is not the answer I was expecting." _Not that Chuck or anything about life with Chuck was what I was expecting ... ever._

"Yeah. You look a lot like you did right after we opened Hartley's"—Chuck makes finger quotes in the air—"wedding gift." Prying her fingers from her empty cup and setting it on the coffee table, he stands up and offers her a hand. "Come on. Let me draw you a bath. You can soak, relax, and process … or just soak and think about nothing, give your mind a break."

She smiles at his thoughtfulness. "That sounds perfect."

She goes down the hallway, into their bedroom. And stops.

"Your clothes are in the closet and the left side of the dresser, same as your side of the bed."

"Okay. Um, thanks." She remains rooted in place.

"Sarah"—his voice is soft—"I can't imagine how totally weird this must feel for you, to walk into your bedroom and not recognize it … or look at an unfamiliar bed, knowing you once happily shared it with a man you now barely know." He lays gentle hands on her shoulder. "I hate Quinn for what he did to you,"—his voice comes out gravelly—"but I will not let him win."

_Then neither will I._ Sarah notes that Chuck doesn't talk about his own loss, which has to be staggering, heart breaking. He always focuses on her and her needs. Extraordinary. He is unlike any man she has ever known, and for reasons she can't fathom, he fell in love with her.

Chuck clears his throat to steady his voice. "I know we haven't talked about this part, but the bedroom, the bed, is yours, and I'll do whatever makes you more comfortable. I can sleep on my side of the bed or the floor ... the couch or over at Morgan's. Or Saturn … Pluto?"

She turns, eyes shining with tears, and chuckles at his self-deprecating humor and his ability to make her smile. "No, Chuck, that's silly. It's your bed, too. Besides, it's big enough for both of us to have our own side." Her voice trails off, and her eyes slide toward the bed and back.

"Sarah"—he looks in her eyes—"you set the pace … on everything, okay?" He cups her shoulders and gently pulls her toward him. Her arms go around him of their own accord, and she nods against his chest, gratitude washing over her. He wraps her in a hug and rubs her back.

With a kiss to the top of her head, he turns her back toward the bedroom and gives her a little push. "Go find what you need, and I ... will draw your bath."

Sarah chooses some pajamas and heads for the bathroom, stopping just outside the door, so she can observe Chuck undetected. She wants to learn more about the man she married, so she puts her spy skills to work and takes advantage of this moment to observe him.

Chuck hums as he lights the candles nearest the tub. She watches with fascination, as he prepares glass bowls of different shapes and sizes, filling each with water and placing a gardenia blossom gently on top. He arranges the bowls around the tub and steps back, arms crossed, to assess his handy work. He swaps two of the bowls and repositions another, then repeats the process. Finally satisfied, he places a bud vase with a single red rose at the front of the tub. He smiles with approval ... and she with affection. She is captivated by this man who appears to derive such pleasure from giving it to others, especially her, it seems. He busies himself lighting the rest of the candles. She barely suppresses a snort at his oblivion to the bubbles mushrooming above the edge of the tub. He spins around, as if hearing her thoughts, and rushes to shut off the water. Rolling up his sleeve, he kneels to test the water. When he stands up, bubbles cling to his hair, his face, his shoulder, the front of his shirt. He holds up his arm, dripping water everywhere. Her eyes shine with laughter, watching him scramble for a towel, dry his arm, and swat away the bubbles. He pivots left, right and left again, looking for a place to put the soggy towel. She suddenly realizes that she has smiled and laughed more with Chuck in the past 6 hours than she has in ... Well, she can't remember smiling and laughing this much … ever. Finally he hides the towel in the shower, selects a fresh one for her, and lays it near the tub. He appraises the scene and nods his approval. As a final touch, he places a bowl of chocolate kisses on the edge of the tub, turns on some music, and dims the lights. He scatters rose petals as he backs toward the door. By now Sarah's gaze is soft, and she is watching Chuck with open affection. And that's the look he sees when he turns around.

He gives her a sheepish grin. With a familiar gesture, she wipes away the last of the bubbles from his collar. His eyes draw her in. She's not quite ready to follow where those eyes could take her, so she clears her throat and looks at the tub. "Chuck, this is lovely. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I bring you something to drink—something sparkling—before you get in?"

"No. I'm good, thanks."

"Okay. If you need anything, just call." He leaves and closes the door behind him.

Sarah sinks into the hot water, with a sigh of contentment, unable to remember a time when she felt so relaxed and … safe. She closes her eyes, and her bones go limp. Thoughts of the day swirl together with the hot water, soothing music, and the scent of gardenias.

_~^~^~  
>She opens her eyes. Ellie is sitting on the edge of the tub with a steno pad and pencil, asking her if she prefers roses or orchids. She can't decide, so she plucks her cell phone out of the air and orders 100 dozen Casablanca lilies. She places her cell phone on the bubbles beside her and offers Ellie a chocolate kiss. They talk about cake tasting and calling ahead to reserve a sunny day from the weather man.<em>

_The bathroom vanishes, and wearing nothing but a towel and bubbles that never melt, she finds herself seated at a table, on a large veranda, overlooking the Champs Élysées, in Paris. A waiter brings out an enormous tray of cakes. Ellie sits across from her, watching her taste each one. She decides on the hazelnut cream. They go inside to pay the bill, but while they walk down the stairs to the lower level of the patisserie, Ellie vanishes._

_When Sarah reaches the bottom of the stairs, she's all alone, wearing a black dress, in a large, underground dry cleaners, with dim lighting. The clothing track whirs to life, and a single spotlight comes on. She watches a parade of wedding dresses swish past her, each one passing under the spotlight. One dress in particular catches her eye and the spotlight follows it, until both disappear from sight. The track stops, and the lights fade, leaving the space dark and silent._

_Sarah flips a switch and finds herself back in her apartment with Ellie, sitting at the table, drinking champagne, and talking about the wedding. Ellie admires the dress. "Sarah, it is so gorgeous. Chuck will absolutely love it. Looks like things are really coming together for the wedding, but you may have to rob a bank to pay for it." They giggle. At that moment, Chuck comes through their front door with a black stocking pulled over his face. Sarah tells him to take it off and then says, "That's better. Now, … let's go rob a bank."_

_The apartment morphs into a bank. Dressed in long black coats, she and Chuck stride into the bank, setting off the metal detectors. As she opens her coat for the security guard to check for weapons, Chuck reaches over her shoulder and tranques that guard and one other. She drops her coat, revealing a cat suit, then sprays machine gun fire into the air. After an impressive show of acrobatics and gun-play, she ends up standing on a wide staircase, wielding two machine guns and shouting, "This is a robbery." She sprays the air with more bullets, while Chuck somersaults onto the counter and walks its length, brandishing his tranque pistols and ordering the tellers to fill the bags with money. He stops, smiles at her, and casually asks if she's having fun. She says, "A little."_

_"Kinda takes your mind off the whole wedding thing, doesn't it?"_

_"Actually, it hasn't been so bad. You know, I took you up on your advice, and I found a dress. Ellie was right. When I put it on, it felt like magic." She points her machine gun at someone, and her cheerful voice changes to one of pure menace, "Get down on the ground before I blow your freaking head off."_

_Chuck continues in affectionate tones, "I'm so glad you found a dress. That's awesome, and I bet you look gorgeous in it." He points his gun toward a guard on the floor and threatens him with a voice of steel._

_"Well, it's actually really pretty, and you know, I never thought I would say this, but I felt like a princess."  
>~^~^~<em>

Sarah awakens to her own mumbling, "felt like a princess." Her eyes blink open. Disoriented, she takes in her surroundings: candlelight, flowers, bubble bath. _Welcome back to Burbank. That was some dream._

Sarah climbs out of the tepid water, dries off, and puts on her pajamas. After finishing her nightly routine, she steps across the hallway to the bedroom.

Chuck is changing the sheets. He stretches the last corner of the fitted sheet onto the mattress, then unfurls the top sheet, letting it settle into place. He smiles when Sarah steps right into their bed-making routine. They work in tandem and finish the task.

She crawls across the mattress and sits cross-legged on her side of the bed. "Chuck?"

"Yeah."

"Did we have a wedding cake?"

"Yeah. Hazelnut cream. You chose it because it reminded you of a cake from your favorite patisserie in Paris. Why?"

"I just had a dream about choosing a cake for the wedding … hazelnut cream." Chuck flashes her a smile. "But it was so … bizarre."

Hit sits down on the edge of the bed. "Sarah, I don't know. Maybe that's your brain's way of trying to remember or reorganize information. I'm not the family brain expert, but if anything, I'd say it's a good sign, yeah?"

"I guess so." She gives him a timid smile. She opens her mouth and closes it.

"Sarah, would you like to tell me the dream. There may be some other memories in there."

Sarah snorts. "Not unless we discussed our wedding while robbing a bank."

Chuck doesn't laugh. His expression doesn't change.

"We robbed a bank?"

He smiles. "Yes, we did."

"Oh-kay. Then, please tell me I didn't sit at a patisserie in Paris, wearing only a towel."

"Not to my knowledge, no. … Sarah, just tell me the dream."

Sarah tells him every detail of the dream. "See, I told you it was bizarre."

"Granted. But. … But. It contains true things. For example, Castle, an underground space, used to have this super-cool wardrobe that ran on a track, just like a dry cleaners. That's where you picked out your wedding dress. There are a lot of little details that are true, just out of context."

"And the bank robbery?"

"That's what's funny ... and kind of exciting. The most bizarre thing about your bank robbery dream is that you dreamed it exactly as it happened, including the stocking on my head. That's a pretty complete memory, Sarah."

One corner of her mouth turns up. "Tell me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Sarah shifts her pillow and stretches out on the bed.

Highlighting the details of her dream, Chuck tells her a bizarre tale about wedding planning, bank robbing, and saving the world.

"So, we really did those crazy things and made the world a safer place?"

"Mm-hmm."

Her small smile shows how pleased she is. It's her first really complete memory of any event from her last five years. She's recovered a small piece of her memory: a glimpse of herself and Chuck, of how they interacted with each other and how they worked together. "Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"It was kind of fun. Robbing a bank with you."

"Yes, it was. Everything is fun with you, Sarah." He picks up her right foot, watching her eyes, asking permission. She doesn't pull away. She just watches him, as he warms her foot in his hands. She lets out a deep breath and relaxes into her pillow, watching him with sleepy eyes. He takes his time deliberately kneading every muscle, each toe. Sarah closes her eyes. _This is heaven._ "Mmm. This is better than sss"—her eyes pop open—"sliced bread."

Chuck laughs. "That's what you always say. Except, you say what you're really thinking right now, instead of what you just said." He smirks. She blushes. He puts her right foot under the covers and picks up the left. "It's fine, Sarah. It's our massage banter. You would always moan and say it was better than sex, to which I would always reply, 'Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong, Mrs. Bartowski.'"

_I wonder if he did._ Her blush deepens, but the foot massage feels so good, she doesn't care. She relaxes even more, at his touch. After he tucks her left foot under the covers and stands to leave, she mumbles a sleepy good night.

_~^~^~  
>The church is beautiful, especially the way the light comes through the stained glass windows. Casey walks her down the aisle, kisses her cheek and lets her go. She hands Ellie her bouquet and climbs the two steps to join her husband-to-be. She looks down at their joined hands.<em>

_The church and stained glass windows fade, replaced by a night sky and city lights. Instead of the dais of the church, she and Chuck stand in their wedding finery, on a helipad, their hands still joined. Except Chuck's hands are in handcuffs. He says, "Maybe we can say how we really feel." And the minister, standing there with his badge, says, "Time's up." _-[No. No. Time is not up. I just got here. No, start over.]-_  
>~^~^~<em>

In her sleep, Sarah's brow creases.

_~^~^~  
>Casey opens the door, lets Sarah out of the big walk-in freezer, and leads her down the aisle again, this time to a big TV screen. The minister on the screen is a familiar, red-headed woman in a military uniform. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to relocate Chuck to a secure government holding facility. The Intersect is no longer your concern, Agent Walker. Chuck is on his way to the extraction point right now."<em>

_She turns and sprints back up the aisle. As she runs her dress flies off piece by piece leaving her in gray jeans, a gray top with a black jacket, and black tennis shoes. She has to get to the extraction point before Chuck and the minister. She reaches the building and runs up the steps, but the faster she runs, the more steps there are. Breathless, she finally reaches the top. "Rev. Longshore, we can hold off on the Chuck transfer."_

_"His cover was blown. He's gone."_

_"No. I will take full responsibility. Chuck is my asset. He's my guy. Just give us more time, please."_

_"Okay," the surly reverend replies, "You've got one minute."_

_"Sarah, I'm not ready to disappear."_

_"No, I know." -_[I just found Chuck. He can't disappear.]-

_"I need you to talk to Ellie and to Morgan and my friends. If I'm supposed to be dead, just say something that will make it okay, that will make them feel all right. And hey, there's a silver lining in all of this. You can come by my cell, and we can hang out, and you can tell me who the president is."—He takes her hands.—"And maybe we can say how we really feel."_

_"Time's up," the minister with the badge pronounces their separation. -_[No, you can't take him. Chuck's my husband. He's my guy.]-

_"Good-bye Sarah." Chuck and the minister get into the helicopter, which takes off and flies out twenty-five yards. Then the blades go silent, and the chopper vanishes. Gone. Chuck's gone, and Sarah is left alone on the roof. -_[Nooooo.]-_  
>~^~^~<em>

Her eyes are burning, and it's hard to breathe. The tears trickling into her ears wake her. The dream was so real. _Chuck._ Sarah whips her head to Chuck's side of the bed. Empty. Her spy senses on full alert, she drops to the floor and pulls a gun from it's hiding place under the bed. _Thirty foot rule._ She creeps from the bedroom through the rest of the apartment, gun raised. She can't find Chuck anywhere. She eases the door open and slips out, leading with her gun, sweeping the courtyard. When she sees Chuck and Ellie walking toward the door, she quickly lowers her gun and takes a deep breath.

They take in her appearance. Sarah stands by the door, in her pajamas, her face tear-stained, and her gun lowered to her side. The panic drains from her face. She quickly puts her gun back inside the apartment and wishes there was someplace to hide. Too late. Chuck and Ellie are in front of her, looking at her with concern. Not knowing where to look, Sarah looks down and closes her eyes, her face burning ... from what she's not sure.

Chuck steps closer and lifts her chin, "Sarah, what's wrong?"

She refuses to cry any more. It was just a dream. Chuck is here, and he's safe. She regains her composure and looks at both of them. "Oh, it's nothing, really. I just woke up and couldn't find Chuck. I guess I freaked out a little and went into full-blown spy mode.

Chuck nods, but his look says that this isn't over. Ellie touches Sarah's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're back, Sarah … safe with us, where you belong."

Sarah is taken aback by the sincerity of Ellie's words. She clears her throat. "Thank you, Ellie. … I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again." There she'd said it. She doesn't know where this forthrightness is coming from, but she wants to get rid of the 800 pound gorilla ... in the courtyard … sitting on her chest.

"Sarah, you're family. I love you like my own sister. ... And I know you. Even that day, I knew you weren't you. I don't hold anything against you. I'm a neurologist, Sarah. I know what neurological trauma does to people. I also know the Intersect backward and forward and what the corrupted one did to Morgan. So quit beating yourself up. We're all so glad you're back."

Sarah thinks back to Ellie's words three weeks ago ... "If you could remember, if you were still you, you would want me to do anything I could to save Chuck. You would want this. Sorry, Sarah." ... It's true. Even then, Ellie held no animosity. She just did what she had to do to save Chuck. _I'm so glad she did._ Sarah shakes off the thoughts of what might have been and returns Ellie's hug. "Thank you, Ellie," she says, feeling it.

"You two get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." Ellie heads back across the courtyard, as Chuck and Sarah go inside.

"Chuck, when is Ellie leaving?"

"Well, she just told me that she delayed things a bit. She has one last patient to finish with here. Devon and Clara will still leave day after tomorrow, and Mom will go along to help with the move."

"Oh. … Sooo, am I the patient?"

"Nothing gets past that spy sense of yours does it?" he deadpans.

"Nope." She smiles.

"To the hospital in Chicago, you're an intriguing patient, who can provide valuable data for advanced neurological research. To Ellie, and Devon and my mom, you're family. If you want, and only when you're ready, Ellie would like to set up in Castle and run some tests. No hospital will ever see you, and obviously all names and classified information will be omitted from any of her findings."

She sighs. "As unappealing as it sounds, it's probably a good idea. Thank you. Again."

"Good. Now, you want to tell me about your other dream?"

She opens her mouth and closes it, narrowing her eyes. "Looks like I'm not the only one whom nothing gets past."

"We keep each other honest." He shrugs and heads to the kitchen. "Go on back to bed. I'll bring you some water."

Chuck sets the water on her nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed.

Sarah hesitates, then speaks, "Aren't you coming to bed?"

His eyes soften. "Sure. I'll be in bed in two shakes of a lamb's tale … however long that is … I'll just … I'll be right back."

Soon he crawls into his side of the bed and props up on his elbow, facing her. "Okay, Sarah. Spill."

She takes a deep breath and tells him the whole dream. "When I woke up, and you weren't there, I … freaked out."

"Well, I'm glad to know my ninja-lioness-protector hasn't lost her edge." He makes her chuckle. "The dream is a partial memory, Sarah. An agent, Longshore, was in the process of extracting me, to take me to an all-expenses-paid, vacation-for-one, in a government resort bunker, never to see my family again. But you found us. We had the conversation, as you dreamed it, but after that your dream departs from what really happened. In real life, the mole shot Longshore. You fought the mole, captured her, and saved me from the bunker. And here we are."

She nods.

"Close your eyes, and I'll tell you the rest of it, because it's kind of funny … and romantic, at least for Ellie and Awesome."

She falls asleep with a smile on her face, her feet migrating toward Chuck's side of the bed.

_~^~^~  
>It's daylight, and Sarah is on top of another building. A giant man holds Chuck by his feet, dangling him upside down over the edge of the building. She points her gun at him. "Freeze." He looks at her, then turns around, says something to Chuck, and … lets go. "Noooo." <em>-[Noooo]-_  
>~^~^~<em>

In her sleep, Sarah's eyes burn, and her throat tightens.

_~^~^~  
>The giant man turns and comes toward her. "Your boyfriend's dead now, Baby. Whatch-you-gonna-do?" <em>-[I've got to save Chuck.]-

_The building begins to move, descending like a giant elevator, until it lowers itself into an underground parking garage. Sarah is desperate to get to Chuck, so she whips out her badge, yanks a Chinese woman from the driver's seat of her sporty blue convertible and speeds off to find Chuck. She finds Colonel Casey. "Where's Chuck?"_

_"Heroic imbecile took off with the bomb. Get out of there, Bartowski."_

_"Oh no, Chuck." She watches the Herder driving away, gaining distance. A trolley goes by on a cross street, briefly blocking her view of Chuck's car. She takes off toward Chuck, but a deafening explosion rocks her back. The Herder is lifted off the ground, engulfed in a huge ball of fire, its debris raining down like cinders and slag. The explosion rips through her, and her world implodes. She can't breathe. She can't cry. She can't think or move.  
>~^~^~<em>

Sarah's eyes fill with tears that won't fall, and her throat clogs with screams that can't escape. Icy-hot dread spreads through her, and she can't move.

_~^~^~  
>She doubles over, and her world melts to nothingness. A gun shot shatters the silence. She opens her eyes and sees Chuck dive in front of a bullet ... a bullet intended for her. She drops to her knees beside him and puts her right hand on his chest. "Are you okay?"<em>

_He places his left hand over hers and holds it tight, his wedding ring catching the light. "They're coming for you, Sarah." His breathing is shallow. His eyes radiate pain mixed with and love. "Run." She looks at the blood pooling beneath him. She hears the sirens. "Run," he tells her again._

_So much blood._

_"No. I'm not leaving." He loses consciousness. "No, no, no. Chuck, don't leave me. Tears roll down her cheeks. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Stay with me, Chuck. … I'm never leaving you." The conviction of those words takes root in her soul. "Chuck!"  
>~^~^~<em>

Her face is wet with tears. She tries to claw her way out of the nightmare. Her scream comes out a whimper, "Chuck."

Chuck is instantly awake and rolling toward her. He kneels above her and grasps her shoulders to wake her. "Sarah. Sarah. It's okay. It's a dream. It's only a dream." Sarah's eyes flutter open. When she sees Chuck, she sits up and pulls him into a tight hug. He holds her and whispers words of comfort, "Shh. It's okay, Sarah. I'm here. I love you."

She backs away enough to study his face. She winds an arm around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. Her voice is soft, "Don't ever leave me."

"Never, Sarah."

Chuck brings her a cool wash cloth, a glass of cold water, and a couple of ibuprofen. He props up in bed beside her and waits for her to talk. Sarah, completely calm now, tells him her dream.

"Well, those are more partial memories, Sarah. They do, however, stop short of the most important part, which is that I didn't actually die any of those times. … Or any other time."

"I know." She fingers the edge of the sheet and smooths it out.

"Do you want me to tell you the rest of the story."

"No. … I mean, yes, but I … well, the dreams made me realize some things." He nods for her to continue. "Chuck, from the short time I've known you, or remember knowing you ... well, I've never known anyone like you. And I _know_ that no one has ever cared for me—loved me—the way you do." He reflects that love to her in his eyes. "The dreams showed me how much I loved you, how important you were to me, that you were my whole world."—She looks down for a moment, then back up to his eyes.—"I think my heart is telling me that you still are. The dreams were dreams, but the fear was real. I've never felt that way before … ever. I've never felt so terrified, so afraid of anything, as I did when I thought I was losing you."

"I'm not going anywhere." He scoots down under the covers, lies on his back, and opens his arms in invitation.

She pauses only an instant before she settles beside him: her left arm across his chest, her head on his shoulder. He brushes her hair back and kisses her forehead. She lifts her head and looks at him with soft eyes before kissing his neck and nestling into his shoulder again. He closes his arms around her and tells her the rest of the story, why he didn't die when Colt dropped him head first off the roof, how he used the Herder's remote control to get the bomb away from his best friend and the Chinese ambassador.

She is quiet for a while before she speaks, "Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"If you hadn't been wearing a vest, you would have still dived in front of that bullet, wouldn't you?"

He is quiet for a minute, trailing his fingers up and down her back. Finally he looks at her. "Every time." She presses closer to him. "You're my heart, Sarah. Without you … well, a man can't live without his heart."

A tear drips onto his tee shirt. "Well then, I think you should use that big brain of yours to invent the Kevlar undershirt ... and boxers."

He chuckles. "Kevlar, by Haynes, huh? I'm getting a rash just thinking about it." She giggles.

What a day. She certainly never imagined it would end like this. Life with Chuck is nothing if not surprising. _With my dad I learned to be ready for disappointment. Whatever this is, it's the opposite of that._

Just before Chuck drifts off to sleep he mumbles, "Oh, everybody's coming over tomorrow for brunch, around 11:00, but we don't have to do anything. Ellie and Morgan are cooking."

Her eyes pop open.

"Sarahhh. I can feel your panic face."

_How does he do that?_

"Just relax. Close your eyes. It'll be fine. I promise. I've got your back."

She burrows into his warmth, comforted by his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest. When she thinks he's asleep, before she drifts off herself, she whispers into his chest, "I love you, Chuck."

His arms tighten around her before going slack in sleep.

She smiles. _One day, you'll get your chance to prove me wrong about the massage._


	4. Family Blessings

**~ Family Blessings ~**

Sunlight filters through the window, and Sarah turns away from the unwelcome intrusion. As sleep's fog lifts, she begins to remember where she is. Chuck. Chuck's apartment.

Chuck's bed.

Their bed.

She is instantly awake. She cracks one eye to see if he is still in bed. No. Relieved and disappointed, she rolls on her back and opens her eyes, her mind already processing. She feels more rested than she has in … forever. Or at least the forever she remembers. Maybe this is normal ... the normal she doesn't remember. Memories of yesterday come flooding back in a swirl of emotions ... and something else. A surprising sense of peace. Where it's coming from, she has no idea.

Faint kitchen noises and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee pull her from her reverie and roust her from bed. Sarah grabs some jeans and digs around in her dresser for under garments and a top. In her digging she uncovers a box from the bottom of a drawer. Her eyes go round as saucers. Answers. She needs answers. This particular possibility hadn't even crossed her mind. She dresses quickly and pads down the hallway to the kitchen, pausing briefly to watch Chuck putter in the kitchen.

His smile lights the room when he sees her … and dims as quickly when he notices the uncertainty in her eyes and the one hand behind her back. "Morning, Sarah. How'd you sleep?"

"I slept well. Great actually. ...

"What's this?" she blurts out and thrusts the box at him. _Well, that was subtle._

He lifts a finger, opens his mouth and closes it again. Taking the box he goes for the obvious, "An EPT? It's an early … pregnancy test, but the box says that, sooo …"

She's more calm now. "Soo ... what it's doing in my drawer?" Too late she wonders if he knew it was there … in the bottom of her underwear drawer. She mentally kicks herself for being so free-spoken. _Where is this coming from. I used to be a better spy._

"It's a spare. Whatever gene makes me overpack for missions makes me buy two of everything. And you put it in your drawer, because it didn't seem very manly to put it in mine."

"So, we used one already." Her voice is timid, hesitant, barely masking the swell of new emotions and uncertainty she feels.

"You know I said there were a lot of things to tell you, but they could wait until today. This is one that would be good to talk about today."

She nods.

He hands her a cup of coffee. "A couple of months ago, give or take, you thought you were pregnant. So I went to the store to buy a do-it-yourself pregnancy-test. And I got two. I mean it was our first time down this particular path, and I thought we might, you know … need two." A small smile tugs at the corner of her lip. His nervous rambling is kind of ... endearing. "We sat in the bathroom together and watched the stick." His eyes soften, and he smiles at the memory. _How can anybody be that cute before breakfast?_ "Anyway, it turned whatever color meant not-pregnant. We both said we felt relieved, but it got us to thinking about ... babies." He tells her that the idea of starting a family grew on them, and that while they weren't trying to get pregnant, they kinda, sorta hadn't been one hundred per cent careful last time. Sarah is quiet. Stunned. Again. He puts his hands on her shoulders. "It's not anything we need to deal with right now ... unless you're ... you know. Sarah, when was your last …"

Her eyes widen in understanding. "Oh. Um … just before Berlin."

His face relaxes again. "See." He pulls her into a hug, and she wraps her arms around him. "It's all good. We can think about these things later, as much later as you want." He tosses the box in the trash.

"Chuck, you didn't have to throw it away." Her eyes narrow. _What am I saying?_

"Nah. Whenever we need one, I'll buy two more." He warms her coffee. "Now, not to change the subject, but I need to brief you before Operation Bartowski Brunch."

"Do they know about the …" She points to the trash.

"Only Morgan. He knew before ... how much we wanted everything, the house and the dog" _Dog?_ "and the baby." He shrugs. "Plus, I asked him to get something sparkling, instead of wine, for dinner last night, just in case … I'm sorry, Sarah." He looks genuinely apologetic.

The awkwardness of the moment aside, she finds it surprisingly unsurprising and sort of sweet that he would cover those bases. "Chuck, it's ok. You didn't do anything wrong … at all. You were being thoughtful and responsible. It's just a lot to take in, that's all."

"I know it is, and I'm so sorry for how overwhelming it all is. But it's going to get better. Come on. Why don't we sit on the couch so I can tell you the story you need to hear before everybody comes over."

Just as Sarah curls up on the couch with her coffee, the doorbell rings. Chuck jogs to the door—"I got it"—and opens it. "Hey buddy." He lowers his voice, evidently talking to Morgan, but she can't hear what they're saying.

Morgan pops his head around Chuck. "Hi, Sarah." She waves. Chuck thanks him and gently closes the door before Morgan gets the chance to say anything else.

Chuck turns toward her and smiles, keeping one hand behind his back. Sarah shakes her head, in amusement. "What's behind your back, Chuck?"

He holds up a book—"This is your morning story."—and takes a seat in the middle of the couch. "And it's one of my most favorite stories, ever. There's a villain, a baby, a hero, and a happy ending. This"—he pauses for effect—"will be be a Bartowski classic for generations to come. It's the story about a little baby and the evil sheriff who plotted to kill the baby's parents, steal the baby's inheritance, and then kill the baby. The hero is selfless and courageous—a true warrior with a kind and good heart, who outsmarts the evil sheriff and saves the baby."

Sarah takes a sip of coffee to swallow the rising panic.

"The warrior then takes the orphaned baby to her own mother, who promises to keep the baby safe and give her a happy life. The warrior knows that she will miss her mother, but for their safety, she vows never to tell anyone about them or see them, ever again."

Sarah goes stone still.

Chuck touches her shoulder. "The story has a happy ending, Sarah. ... After five years, the warrior finds out ... that the evil sheriff found out … that the baby was still alive. So, with the help of her devoted-and-handsome husband and her loyal friend, she hunts down the evil sheriff and kills him. And they all live safely and happily ever after."

Sarah crinkles her brow, unbelief warring with relief. "Ryker's dead?"

"Ryker's dead. And your mom and the baby are safe. Of course, she's not a baby any more." He smiles and holds her gaze, his eyes red and a wee bit watery, his voice rusty. "Sarah, I wish more than anything I could give you back all your memories, but if I had the power to give you back only one memory, I think this would be it."

She scoots closer to him on the couch, takes the book, and opens it to the first page. It's a picture of a little girl with a stuffed dog, sitting on a familiar red couch. The caption reads "Molly and Rex." She turns the page. On the left is a picture of Molly with Emma. Sarah's eyes begin to tear. On the right is a picture of Sarah and Emma squatting on either side of Molly, their arms around her, and Chuck squatting behind Molly with his arms around all of them. Sarah hands Chuck her cup so she can wipe away the tears. "I want to know everything."

Chuck recounts everything that happened in Budapest. He tells her about finding the bug, sending Emma the emergency signal, taking down Ryker's men at her mother's house, and their reunion. Sarah can hardly believe that the nightmare is over, and everyone is safe.

She leafs through the book studying each page and every photo, trying to decide if her mother has aged in the last five years. She chuckles at the picture of Morgan playing video games with Molly, and smiles at the pictures of her talking to her mother and her mother talking to Chuck. The picture of her with Molly reminds her how awkward and clueless she was at first, taking care of a baby, and how quickly she became attached to this tiny person.

The picture that takes her breath away, though, is the one of her watching Chuck with Molly. Wonder takes root in Sarah's heart when she sees herself ... the look on her face. _Pure love._ She absorbs the pictures of the dinner: of her and Chuck sitting at the head of their table, in their home, with their family and friends around them, smiling, talking, laughing. Her sense of wonder grows with each new glimpse of the life she had ... or, as she's coming to realize, the life she still has but just doesn't remember.

She looks up at him, that same wonder in her eyes. "Thank you." She doesn't have the words to say what she's feeling, so she says it with a kiss. He pulls her close, responding to the kiss. She pulls him down on the couch. Oh yes. … _Bells?_ … The doorbell. … Oh no.

Evidently brunch is served. Chuck gets up to answer the door, giving her time to retreat and regroup.

—^v^—

Sarah blows out a quick breath—_I can do this—_and quietly joins the festivities.

Ellie pulls her into the kitchen to help cut up some fruit. Sarah is grateful for the distraction. The two women work side by side. "You look rested, Sarah. How do you feel?"

"Better than I have in a while, actually." She smiles at her sister-in-law.

"Good. … Did Chuck tell you about my offer?"

"Ah, yes. He did."

"And you hate the idea." Ellie's knowing smile puts Sarah at ease.

"Well, yeah, but"—she shrugs—"I know it's probably necessary. Truthfully, I would feel better knowing that my brain is mostly still there."

"I'm pretty sure it is, Sarah." Ellie chuckles. "But I'll feel better, if I check you out myself. Do you want to wait a day or two, or get it over with today?"

"Let's get it over with. Besides, I'm keeping you from your family."

"You're my family, too, Sarah. And right now you're the priority. Devon understands."

"Still, it's probably best not to give me a chance to chicken out."

Devon comes to fetch the fruit salad and kisses his wife, "What are you two beautiful ladies talking about? What does Devon understand, and what could possibly make Sarah chicken out?"

Ellie hands Devon the dish. "None of your business. Go." She turns him in the direction of the table and gives him a push.

He leans toward Sarah and lowers his voice. "Ooo, grouchy. … Welcome home, Sarah." Both women smile after him.

Mary comes into the kitchen. "I'll put ice in the glasses." Ellie takes two pitchers to the table, and Sarah reaches for the glasses, feeling a little nervous. Mary lays a hand on her arm. "No gun this time, Sarah. I promise. I just wanted to tell you I'm glad you're back." Sarah gives her a nod and a tight smile. They start filling the glasses with ice. "I couldn't ask for a better wife for my son. You knew that once, and I want you to know it again. I owe you an amazing debt. We all do, for one thing or another."

Sarah is taken aback by the older woman's sincerity. "Um, thank you … Mary. But from what Chuck tells me, I think we're even."

"After I get back from Chicago, if you want, we can go to lunch, and I'll tell you about our weeks in Russia, our Volkoff mission ... answer any of your questions … talk shop."

"I'd like that." The two woman finish their task in comfortable silence and join the others. Sarah stands next to Chuck, watching everyone talking and laughing. Her family was never like this. Morgan hands Clara off to Chuck and goes to talk to Ellie. Alex is laughing with Devon, and Mary is watching Chuck. Sarah follows Mary's gaze and sees her husband making silly faces at Clara. He makes chipmunk cheeks, and Clara smashes them with her little hands, laughing at the noise it makes. Then Clara sees Sarah. She grabs a fist full of blond hair and strains against Chuck's arm, reaching for her aunt. "Okay, okay. Hang on, Clara." Chuck shifts Clara toward Sarah, helping her take her niece. Sarah's eyes plead with him. He nods his reassurance, keeping a supporting hand on Clara while placing his other hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Don't freak out, Sarah," Chuck whispers, then continues in baby-ease, "I forgot to tell you how much Clara loves her Aunt Sarah. Don't you Clara?" Sarah remembers the baby in Budapest and takes Clara with more confidence than she feels. She can't help smiling back at Clara's beaming face. Clara pats Sarah's face. Sarah takes her tiny hand, makes a surprise face at Clara, and gently bumps her forehead.

Chuck watches his wife with complete adoration. Clara burrows into Sarah's neck, and she kisses the top of Clara's head. The chatter in the room dies down, and all eyes drift to Chuck and Sarah. A collective contentment settles over the room. When Chuck and Sarah look up, everyone looks away and resumes their conversations, while Mary steps over to relieve Chuck and Sarah of the littlest Bartowski/Woodcomb. Sarah feels something she is content not to label or think about for now.

Morgan clinks his glass and gets everybody's attention. "I don't usually get to do the toast, but today it's my turn. Ah. This has been the place of so many family parties and meals, holiday dinners and happy reunions. Today is a little different, though. We have things to mourn and things to celebrate. Alex and I are already missing Casey, but we're glad he's going after Gertrude. And we know he won't stay away forever, because he left his picture of the Gipper." Everyone laughs and raises a glass to Casey. "To John Casey: father, partner, and friend.

"And ah, Ellie and Devon. I don't know what to say." He pauses to steady his voice. "You guys are my family. Ellie finally found something to like about me, and Devon helped me grow up. Maybe one had something to do with the other. I don't know. I do know that Chicago is too far away for me to even think about right now, but you both deserve the jobs and the promotions … and the raise. So, to Ellie and Devon and little Clara. Come back often ... and buy a big enough house for tons of company." Glasses are raised to Devon and a teary Ellie.

"Most of all, though, I want to say welcome home to Sarah. We missed you, and not just Chuck, though he missed you the most, and it wasn't pretty. But we all missed you. It's not the same without you, and we're happy you're back. We're kind of sorry you shot Quinn, though, because we all wanted to torture him first and then let you and Mary finish him off." All heads nod in agreement. "We, um ... We can't undo what he did, but we're here now … for whatever you need. Welcome home, Sarah." There's not a dry eye in the room, as everyone lifts a glass to Sarah.

Sarah has no idea what's come over her, but she wants to say something. "Thank you Morgan, and all of you. I wish I remembered … well, everything." Chuck puts his hand on her shoulder, stroking the back of her neck with his thumb. "Being here with all of you makes me realize how much Quinn stole from me. But um, Chuck is showing me that even though Quinn stole my memories, he didn't steal my life, as long as I don't let him. It may take a while, but, with Chuck's help, I'm going to get my life back." Every face shows love and pride. "So … thank you ... and cheers." Chuck presses his lips to the side of her head, as voices and glasses are raised in hearty salute.

The party winds down. People have things to do, places to be. After everybody hugs everybody else, twice, Chuck and Sarah fall into a rhythm of cleaning up.

"Chuck, your family is being so sweet. I don't know what to say. 'Thank you' doesn't begin to cover it."

"Sarah. You're their family. They love you. They will always be here, for both of us."

She simply nods, unable to say more.

—^v^—

Ellie follows Chuck and Sarah down the steps into Castle. "It will take me just a few minutes to set up, Sarah, so make yourself at home."

Chuck eyes Ellie's medical bag and takes a few steps back. "I'll just be over there … on that side of the room. Because I've got some technical, satellite-computer stuff to do." He gives Sarah a quick kiss and goes over to one of the computers.

Sarah glances at Ellie setting up and decides it's more interesting to watch Chuck. He snaps headphones over his ears, laces his fingers and extends his arms inside-out, cracking his knuckles. Then he takes a swig of … _Chardonnay?_ Her gaze softens, and she is completely engrossed in watching Chuck at the computer. His fingers fly over the keys. Finally, he hits one last key, drums his fingers on the table, and dances across the room. He gets a box from a drawer and returns to the computer. Sarah smiles.

Ellie stands across the room, arms folded across her chest and a smile on her face, as she watches Sarah watch Chuck. She walks over to Sarah and speaks softly, "Sometimes, Sarah, what the brain can't remember ... the heart can't forget."

Sarah's cheeks color. "Is that my sister-in-law speaking or my doctor?"

"Both." Ellie smiles. "When you and Chuck first started dating, I obviously didn't know that you were CIA or that he was an intelligence asset. To me you two were a guy and a girl dating. I was so excited for Chuck, because I liked you from the first time I met you … a lot actually. But he didn't want me to get my hopes up for a relationship he said was doomed, because, quote, she's not into me, unquote. But I knew better. I had seen the way you looked at him." Ellie bumps Sarah's shoulder. "It became one of my favorite things to watch you watch Chuck, when neither of you knew I was looking." Sarah raises her eyebrows. Ellie shrugs. "I'm a big sister. What can I say."

Sarah is quiet, hoping Ellie continues.

"It was obvious that Chuck was head over heels for you, and anyone with eyes could see that you were in love with him. But all either of you would say was, 'It's complicated.' That became my most hated phrase ever." Ellie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Of course, later I understood what some of the complications were, but at the time, I just saw two people in love. And that seemed pretty simple to me."

Ellie smiles at Sarah, who is very still, but taking in every word.

"It's a little like that now, Sarah. A lot of things have gotten complicated, because of the actions of an evil man. But some things,"—she looks at Chuck—"are still simple."

Sarah nods with a ghost of a smile. "Thank you, Ellie."

"That's what big sisters are for. Now, are you ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Okay. Are you having any headaches at all?"

"No, just a bit of one last night after a … bad dream."

"Good. No persistent headaches is a good sign. Now, Chuck said you had remembered some things like how you light the candles, how the cups were supposed to be arranged at the Wienerliscious, familiar gestures. Those are procedural memories, things you do, as opposed to episodic memories of, say, events or people, things you describe. All of your spy skills are still in tact, so your procedural memory doesn't seem to be affected. Have you noticed any routine tasks that you couldn't perform?"

"No." Sarah perks up. "That's good, right?"

"Yes, it's very good." Ellie places an electrode on Sarah's forhead. "Now, how about things that have happened since you woke up three weeks ago in your hotel room. Do you remember everything that's happened since then? Any trouble remembering, for example ... what happened yesterday?"

Sarah blushes a little, and Ellie politely ignores it by sticking another electrode in place. "No. I remember everything that's happened over the last three weeks." _Especially yesterday._

"Good. That's good. Some people who suffer head trauma can't remember things that happen after the trauma. That's anterograde amnesia. What you have is retrograde amnesia, that is you can't remember things from the past. Some people experience both."

"That would be awful."

"Yeah. It really is. I think it's sadder for patients with severe anterograde amnesia, because they can't make new memories. But it's all hard." Ellie hooks wires to the electrodes.

"Isn't it hard for you to have to deal with that all the time?" Sarah pushes a wire aside, so she can see.

"It is. It's hard to see people and their families suffer. But it feels good to be able to help. And it's a fascinating area of study." Ellie hits a few keys on the computer, then looks back at Sarah. "But back to you. How about other memories? You mentioned dreams. Were they just dreams or memories?"

"Both. They were bizarre, but Chuck said they contained details of memories, only out of context. Evidently the one complete, and completely accurate, memory was of us robbing a bank."

"You and Chuck robbed a bank? Never mind. … That's perfectly normal, Sarah … not robbing a bank—that's only normal for you and Chuck." They share a smile. "But having your memories surface in dreams, or remembering things out of context, whether dreaming or awake, is common. It's really encouraging that you had a complete memory. Have you had other memories like that, that you're aware of?"

"Yes. When Chuck was telling me about our wedding, I remembered what Casey said to me before he walked me down the aisle. I remembered a time Chuck came over to my hotel room and brought me a present. And my bad dream contained key aspects of some of our missions." She looks down, and her voice trails off, "The parts where Chuck was almost killed."

Ellie shudders and rests a hand on Sarah's shoulder, looking at her with sympathy and conviction. "But Chuck didn't die. You protected him. You would never let anything happen to him, and he would never leave you. You know that. Right, Sarah?"

She nods, looking down.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Some bizarre images, like a tiger, a marlin, chicken pepperoni. Weird things just hit me out of nowhere. The chicken pepperoni was explained with last night's dinner, but the others, I have no idea."

Ellie laughed. "The tiger and the marlin were mission related. I only know because they both ended up in my apartment." Sarah's eyebrows shoot up. "Just get Chuck to tell you about them. That type of memory is not unusual either. Something external triggers a memory, but only one part of the memory surfaces. Normally, the external trigger would make you remember the tiger along with the entire memory in its proper context. In your case, your brain remembers only the tiger … for now. Depending on the type of amnesia and the cause, the brain is able to recover some of the missing information."

"Really? … I could remember?"

"That's what the tests will tell us. Now, you can lie down if you want, Sarah. I'm going to run the tests … poke around in your brain for a while."

Sarah lies down and closes her eyes. There's a chance she could remember.

Sarah opens her eyes and blinks against the light, as Ellie unhooks the wires from her head. "You dozed off, Sarah. I'm all done."

"Sooo ... is my brain ..."

"Your brain is fine, in that there's no evidence of permanent damage from the Intersect. That means that over time, you could recover a lot of your memories. The same was true of Morgan's scans. It's good news, Sarah. It just may take some time.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

Sarah looks down and fingers the hem of her shirt.

"Ask me anything, Sarah. It's normal to have questions, and who else are you going to ask?"

"Okay. I … um ... it's weird. Chuck seems like a stranger that I've known all my life. I don't remember much about us, but I feel this … connection. I have so few memories, but I …" Her voice trails off, and she looks away.

"Love him?"

Sarah's eyes snap back to Ellie.

"It's as obvious now as it's always been, Sarah."

"How can that be?"

"As your sister-in-law, I would say that your heart doesn't forget, that emotions are powerful things. As your doctor, I'll add that emotional memory is stored in a different place in your brain from procedural memory or episodic memory.

"I had this other patient. Her memory loss was due to illness. She woke up from a coma, having lost one year of her life. That's not nearly as bad as five, but it is significant memory loss. The interesting part, and this is not uncommon, is that she would see someone and feel really happy to see them, even though she didn't recognize them at all or know how they fit into her life. Or she would see someone, to her memory a total stranger, and instantly know that she didn't like that person. Her emotional memory was intact."

Sarah nods, brow furrowed.

"That means that there's a reason that you are able to access your feelings for Chuck before your memories of him. It means the feelings are real, Sarah. As you get to know him again, as it were, the feelings will seem less orphaned."

Sarah's whole countenance relaxes, relief washing over her. She blinks back tears of relief.

"Of course, actual memories, as they return, will give the emotions more depth and context. My other patient ultimately recovered some of her memories, some organically and some because people told her the stories." A smile tugs at Sarah's lips, thinking about Chuck's stories_._ "She said she quit caring where the pieces came from, as long as she was able to put the puzzle together. You have a better chance of organic memory recovery than she did, because the source of your trauma is different, and you don't have any permanent neurological damage.

"I wish I could give you some guarantee. The one thing I _can_ guarantee, is how much Chuck loves you and that he will do anything to help you. That goes for the rest of us, too. … I just wish we could have used the Intersect to restore your memory."

"If I have to get my memories back externally, I'm sort of glad it worked out this way." Her voice is timid, "I wouldn't trade Chuck's stories for anything."

"Aha." Ellie's smile is full of affection for her sister-in-law. "Well, I'm not leaving Burbank just yet, so if you have any questions you can always ask. After that you have me on speed-dial." Ellie reaches out to hug Sarah.

Sarah returns the hug, with surprising feeling. "Thank you, Ellie."

"You're welcome. Now, _somebody_ is about to have a conniption to get out of here. I think he has something special planned."

Chuck offers Sarah his arm. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Yes, I am. Right after I go to the restroom." She swats his arm.

Chuck sighs dramatically. "If you must."

"I really must."

Sarah glances at the wall of lockers as she leaves her restroom, and curiosity gets the better of her. She opens them: door number one, clothes; door number two, bathroom supplies; door number ... _Ah-haa. What's this?_ The third locker has a bottle of champagne. She looks deeper and finds a portfolio and an iPad. She opens the portfolio, scanning the top folder: "Carmichael Industries Business Plan." Fanning through, she sees notes scribbled on every page, in her handwriting. _What? I wonder if Chuck knows about this? I guess not, since it's still here in my bathroom._ She puts all the folders and the iPad in her purse. Chuck is waiting, so she takes it to study later.

Chuck and Sarah head up the steps ... together this time. "Oh, I almost forgot." Chuck hands Sarah a smart phone. "It's a new one, identical to the one you had before, including Carmichael Industries modifications. Our phones are all backed up on our satellite. So all I had to do was clone the old one."

Sarah takes the phone. "Thank you. Wait a minute. You said _our_ satellite? We have a satellite?"

"Yes we do. One day soon, I'll have to give you the owner's tour of Castle and show you all the cool stuff we have. But first things first. Right now I want to take you someplace where you can de-stress. Think of it as our third first date."

She laughs.

"I'll drive, and on the way you can tell me what Ellie said."

—^v^—

Chuck pulls into the Van Nuys Airport. "So all of Ellie's tests showed no permanent damage, and you have a good chance of recovering your memories. Hey, that's great news, right?"

"I thought so. I'm feeling a lot better, actually." She doesn't tell him yet about the emotional memory stuff. She's still processing what it means. "Chuck what are we doing at this airport … or any airport." She raises a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"You'll see." He returns a cryptic smile.

"Have we been here before?"

"No. In fact, the entire date, from now until we get back home, is uncharted territory for both of us. You won't have to scan every room for something familiar … or look at every little thing and wonder if you should remember it … or think that I remember everything, and you remember nothing. It's all new ... for both of us."

She wouldn't have asked for it, or even thought of it, but it's incredibly thoughtful. He constantly amazes her.

"Oh, there is one little thing you need to know. Bob, a new client, bought our jet … our Gulfstream." She gapes at him. "We came out of the deal with a customized Hondajet and seven million dollars, plus interest."

She shakes her head. _The rabbit hole deepens._ "Oh-kaay."

"If you like the way she flies, we'll close the deal."

"We're going flying?"

"Yeeah. Did I do something wrong? Because you usually like to fly. The only reason you used to let Casey fly was because it let us … rest." He blushes.

"No, Chuck. It's okay. More than okay. It's just that nobody else has ever plotted for my happiness like this. I'm stunned."

"Stunned good?" He looks worried.

"Yes. Stunned good." She kisses him to punctuate the point.

Having met Bob, whom she disliked as much as he seemed to like her, Chuck and Sarah board their new jet.

"Chuck, I haven't flown a plane in …" She stops, realizing she doesn't know.

"About 5 weeks."

"Oh."

"If you're uncomfortable, I can fly it. I just thought …"

"Do you fly?"

"Well, you taught me. You said if I was going to play with all the buttons, I should know what they do." She smiles at visions of Chuck playing with the buttons. "And then there's always the super-noggin." He points to his head.

Sarah shakes her head. "Okay, co-pilot, where are we going?"

He smiles. "Monterey."

As the jet lifts off the runway, Sarah feels the familiar exhilaration. Soon they are surrounded by nothing but sky. Chuck is right. She loves to fly. It relaxes her. The silence and endless expanse is … freeing. Chuck studies the instrument panel and looks out the window, fascinated with everything. She smiles. So much of the boy still in the man. He looks pleased with his choice for their uncharted date. They enjoy a companionable silence in a place where time stands still.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"You told me our story through the wedding. What about after. What was it like being married? Did things change?"

"Hmm …" Chuck looks out the window, thinking.

She watches him, memorizing his thinking-face.

"In some ways, it was like this. Flying with you. Safe. Just the two of us in our own private jet, taking off into something huge. Free to soar with you and explore everything"—Chuck gestures out the window—"together." Sarah's pulse quickens thinking about soaring with Chuck and exploring life together. "Our horizon expanded. Our future felt more real, less hypothetical. We had more to live for … and more to lose." He says they began to crave a more normal life, but that the undertow of the spy world kept sucking them back into escalating danger. He tells her about the morning she blurted out that she wanted to quit spying. "You said you had been thinking about our future and maybe babies, and how raising a family didn't go with the dangers of our spy life. You explained your idea to make Carmichael Industries a spied-up tech firm to counter cyber terrorism." He tells her that after their one last mission, she phoned him from Castle about the plans she had worked on all night. "You were so excited about starting everything. You wanted to pop some champagne, toast to our future, and destroy the Intersect glasses—the bad ones. Right after we hung up, Quinn kidnapped me, and everything spiraled out of control." His voice goes hoarse on the last word. He gets quiet and looks out his window.

Her heart breaks with his loss and the crushing realization that Chuck has lost as much as she has ... that hers wasn't the only life Quinn ruined.

Yet here they are, cocooned in their own private world, an endless blue dome above them, white cotton canyons below them, and the sun pillowed on gold-etched clouds to their left. It's not a bad place to be.

She touches his arm. "Chuck."

He looks at her, his eyes a little red.

"Look." She nods out the front of the plane. "The horizon is still there."

She feels his smile to her core, as if it were her own.

—^v^—

She slips her hand into his, as they stroll along Fisherman's Wharf, looking in the shops and perusing menus. They eat at Rappa's at the end of the wharf. She orders the teriyaki sirloin and he, the halibut. They eat watching the sun on the water and the occasional otter or sea lion.

Sarah asks Chuck about growing up, his mom and dad, Stanford. She listens to his story and discovers new things to admire and love about her husband. He tells her that she made him want to do more … be more. Most men fall all over themselves to impress her and come up short, but without trying, Chuck captivates her ... by simply being himself.

She smiles and laughs with him and talks easily about her childhood and her years at Harvard. She tells him about learning to fly and her year with the Secret Service in the Bush Whitehouse. Chuck absorbs every word. As she looks out at the water, she realizes that no one has ever made her feel like this. Comfortable. Safe. Free to be ... herself.

Chuck turns to look for the waiter to ask for the bill. As if on cue, he appears at the table bearing a rather large wedge of cheesecake, covered with fresh strawberries and a drizzle of chocolate. He sets down the plate, with two spoons. "Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski, compliments of Tony Rappa. He prides himself at being able to spot our newly weds." The waiter nods toward the front of the restaurant, where Tony waves and smiles, placing both hands over his heart.

Chuck smiles and nods at Tony, then tells the waiter, "Please, tell Tony 'thank you very much.' We love cheesecake, and my wife especially loves the strawberries."

The cheesecake and strawberries consumed, the bill paid, and Tony properly thanked, they take the Recreation Trail to Cannery Row to walk off their cheesecake. From there, a taxi shuttles them back to the airport.

Once in the air, Sarah asks Chuck to fly the plane while she checks out the cabin and the lav. She sits in one of the seats and looks out the window. The wing stretches into the night sky like a silver walkway to the full moon. It's beautiful. Romantic.

_~^~^~  
>She stops at the top of the stairs.<em>

_"Sarah you just stopped. What's the matter?" Morgan's voice is in her ear._

_"I think for the first time in my life, I'm … nervous."_

_"You have butterflies. … That's completely natural. Everybody gets butterflies."_

_"Morgan, I don't get butterflies."_

_"That is Chuck Bartowski out there on that balcony. He is the best friend that I've ever had. I know you weren't asking, and maybe it's a little silly ... but you have my permission to marry him. He's all yours, so, take care of him."_

_"Thank you, Morgan." She walks out onto a balcony._

_"Walker, check your six, by your feet. Bartowski dropped the ring." _Casey is in her ear?

_Chuck smiles at her. She smiles back. "Look at the moon, Chuck." As, he looks toward the moon, she picks up the ring box. She walks over to Chuck and kisses him, slipping the ring box into his pocket.  
>~^~^~<em>

The rest of the memory clicks into place, just as Chuck told it. She remembers all of it. She remembers the butterflies and the love. She feels them now.

Butterflies or no, she wants to go home ... maybe continue what they started on the couch this morning.

—^v^—

They walk in the door, tired after such a full day. Chuck offers her the bathroom first, while he makes tea.

Sarah returns from her shower, ready for a romantic evening, only to find the mugs steaming on the coffee table and Chuck softly snoring on the couch. A wave of affection washes over her, along with a hint of disappointment. She heads down the hallway to find a blanket to cover him.

She reaches for the top shelf of the closet and tugs on the corner of a blanket. The blanket slides off the shelf, and a box tumbles down with it, bouncing off the top of her head, before she catches it.

She opens the box and shifts the tissue paper, and her breath catches. She lifts the pink piggy bank from the box and reads the note, yellowed with age: "4 Adventures With Dad."

_~^~^~  
>Her dad looks at her across the beige leather seats of his Town Car. "If you could have anything in the whole world, what would it be."<em>

_"An adventure somewhere ... just you and me."_

_"I tell you what. You save up, and maybe we can do just that."  
>~^~^~<em>

She smiles at the innocent memory, and her heart squeezes a little, knowing that the adventure gradually wore into disappointment.

_~^~^~  
>Flecks of light swirl around the room. People are dancing, and Chuck mans the DJ post. "Alrighty folks, let's slow things down. Grab that special someone and show 'em how much you love 'em."<em>

_Her dad asks her to dance. Reluctantly she confesses that she and Chuck are getting married. He says he knows. "I just never thought my little girl would settle down. I thought you'd end up more like me, one adventure after another, never stay in one place too long. Isn't that what you wanted?"_

_"It was, but um, I found a home here, a good one ... and I'm happy."  
>~^~^~<em>

She recognizes the memory from Chuck's story, but her own memories filled in the conversation with her dad. More progress.

She looks in the box again and finds a card: "You gave this to me a long time ago, and I want you to know I never spent a dime of it. It should more than cover the cost of your wedding to the Schnook. I hope now you can have all the adventures you ever wanted with a man far better than me. … Love Dad."

_~^~^~  
>Her dad picks up his jacket from the chair in her hotel room, and she asks him, "Why did you put the money in Chuck's account?"<em>

_"I needed to put it somewhere, and I didn't trust Cop Face."_

_"But you trusted Chuck?"_

_"I read people. That's the only real talent I've got. One thing I know. That kid would never betray you. I made a ten million dollar bet that he loved you. Turns out I was right.  
>~^~^~<em>

In his own way, her dad loved her. She blinks back tears and tucks the piggy bank back in its spot. Her dad had kept it for her, until she found an adventure and a man worthy of her love.

She returns to the living room and her sleeping Schnook. She covers him with the blanket, pulls a chair next to the couch, and tucks her feet under the blanket near his. Sipping her tea, she watches the extraordinary man who gave her a home and a family.

Later, Sarah wakes up, on her side of the bed, feeling a little chilly. She closes the distance between her side and Chuck's side to lie next to him. He tugs her close and wraps her in his arms. She snuggles into him and breathes a contented sigh.

_Having your own side of the bed is overrated._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I did do some research before I went down any of these paths. All the things that Ellie says to Sarah are true, according to what I've researched. Ellie puts the cookies on the bottom shelf, because that's about as high as the author can reach. ;) Her patient is a real case, including the part about her emotional memory. Memory recovery through dreams also happens in real life cases.


	5. Friends 'n' Things

**~ Friends 'n' Things ~**

This morning when Sarah awakens, she knows exactly where she is. She remains still and relishes the serenity of the early morning and the odd contentment of lying next to Chuck. Reluctantly, she drags herself out of bed and goes to start the coffee.

At 6:45 she squats by Chuck's side of the bed. "Chuck." Nothing. She shakes his shoulder and speaks a little louder, "Chuck."

"Hmm."

"It's 6:45. Devon and Clara and your mom are leaving at 8:00."

One eye cracks open and closes again. "Mmm. Mrning." Both eyes pop open. "Sarah, my mom and Devon and Clara are leaving at 8:00 this morning. Why didn't you wake me?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "I just did. … Coffee's ready." She kisses his cheek.

"Oh. Okay ... thank you." He manages a sleepy smile.

—^v^—

Sarah, who lived out of a suitcase most of her life, gapes at all the baggage and baby paraphernalia on the sidewalk, which Sarah is convinced will never fit in the unsuspecting van. She leans closer to Chuck. "Are they driving cross-country or invading a small country?"

Chuck answers quietly, "I know it may look like the latter, but I don't think any country ever fell to a cardiologist, a battalion of stuffed animals, and a brigadier baby."

They chuckle and watch in shock and awe.

Morgan wrestles a trunk to the back of the van and sits on it red-faced, wheezing like an asthmatic mule. "Devon, here's the trunk you wanted. … Man! What is in this thing?"

"Not that much. Workout clothes and running shoes. Some books I need. Two 40 pound dumbbells."

"Of course."—Morgan's eyes bulge—"Well, here it is. And I know you're a cardiologist and all, but you do hernia surgery, too, right? … Mamacita that thing's heavy!"

Devon looks over at Chuck and Sarah. "Chuck. Bro. My van's sound system quit working. Would you check it out and see if you can fix it? Mornin' Sarah."

Sarah waves, and Chuck steps toward the van. "Devon, you do know that the Buymore doesn't sell Toyotas, right?"

"I know, Chuck, but you can fix anything."

Sarah stifles a snort at Chuck's expression.

Mary holds the GPS and pores over maps and timetables spread out on the hood. Sarah nudges Ellie and nods toward Mary. Ellie smiles. "Mom is programming the GPS with regular stops for snacks, restroom breaks, meals, and walks for Clara." Sarah raises an eyebrow. Ellie rolls her eyes, "I know." They share a laugh.

As chaotic as it is, Sarah feels a growing contentment being part of a family … this family.

"Oh, no." Ellie hands Clara off to Sarah. "Sorry, Sarah, can you hold Clara for a minute." Ellie jogs to the van. "Devon, Honey, that bag has to go near the front where Mom can get to it. It's full of things for Clara, for the trip."

Sarah is left all alone holding Clara, who seems surprisingly unperturbed by the pandemonium. "Um, sure," Sarah says to the air. Clara absently plays with the back of Sarah's hair, and Sarah sways back and forth and gives Clara soothing updates on all the packing progress, which Sarah finds both fascinating and entertaining. Ellie and Devon and Morgan and Mary load the van with Devon's trunk, six suitcases, two boxes, a backpack, a play pen, a stroller, a car seat, two blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, assorted toys, snacks, and a … _blender?_

Chuck ducks beneath the steering wheel to check … whatever.

_~^~^~  
>Sarah is scrunched in the Lotus with her right foot on the break, her left knee folded into her chest, and her left ankle propped on top of the steering wheel. Chuck is crouched beside her, trying to defuse a bomb near the break pedal.<br>~^~^~_

Another memory, but not one Sarah can place. Obviously he defused the bomb, or they wouldn't be here. He seems to be pretty good at that. She absently wonders how many other women can boast about their husband's bomb-defusing abilities. She chuckles imagining the conversation. 'Well my husband stopped WWIII by defusing a nuclear bomb … using fruit juice.' ... _Fruit juice?_ Well, that's ridiculous. … _Isn't it?_

Alex rolls out a cooler the size of a small coffee table. Sarah looks from the bulging van to the cooler and back at the van. No way. Amazingly, by 7:52, the sidewalk is empty, and the van is full, save 3 people sized cubbyholes … just enough space for Devon, Mary, and Clara.

Clara.

Sarah almost panics, until she realizes that Clara is sound asleep on her shoulder, her little hand still tangled in Sarah's hair.

The ritual of hugs is observed with added feeling, because people are going across the country, not just across the courtyard. The van groans to life and pulls away, leaving five people waving until it disappears from view.

"Hey, El, you want to join Sarah and me for breakfast?"

Sarah notices the sad look in her sister-in-law's eyes. "Yeah, Ellie, please, do. We've got plenty. I think I even remember how to make an omelet."

"Thanks guys, but I promised to meet some friends for one last yummy breakfast at the hospital. I'd much rather have one of Sarah's omelets." She hugs them both. "Rain check?"

"Sure, Sis."

"Absolutely, Ellie."

—^v^—

Sarah slides half an omelet onto each plate and carries them to the table. Chuck emerges from the bedroom and joins her at the table. "Mmm. Something smells great. Thanks, Sarah."

"You're welcome. What's with the outfit? I thought you didn't work at the Buymore any more."

"Technically, I don't, but I agreed to help with the transition. Today, though, I have a prearranged install, which will take most of the day. Maybe you can get some much needed rest, a little down time. Then tonight we can do whatever you want."

"Okay. That sounds good, actually. I can go through my things. I guess I have things."

"You do, and you can. And … you married a guy with lots of stuff, so when you run out of your stuff, you can go through mine, because, you know, it's all yours now, too." She smiles. "I'll show you where all the pictures and videos are. ... Not that you couldn't find everything, because you are a spy."

"Chuck?"

"Yeah."

"The house, the one where you took me. Is it our house?"

His smile is a little wistful. "It is. That's what we did with our CIA severance packages. Then once the Buymore sold, we paid it off ... with a lot left over."

"But we didn't move in?"

"No. Since our lease isn't up here, we decided to fix it up a bit, paint and stuff, before moving in. It's easier than after."

"That was smart of us." She smiles.

"Well, we are smarter than the average bear." He does his eyebrow dance.

She takes a few more bites. "Um, I was wondering … something else."

"Sarah. Ask me anything, any time … because I am a fount of information," he jokes. "Besides, whatever I don't know, I can probably access." He points to his head.

"That's actually what I was wondering about."

"The Intersect?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay, fire away."

"Well, I know you wanted to destroy it. You said that was the only way we'd be safe. But then you had to upload it to save General Beckman and all those people and Casey and Morgan … and us. So, now are you stuck with it? Are you in danger from terrorists or rogue factions or the government? Is it dangerous to you?"

"Wow. Okay. I don't know if I'm stuck with it. I would think so for the time being, because I don't know if there is still a suppression device, and I don't want to raise any flags by asking. When things settle down, I'll tell Ellie, and then we'll be able to discuss options, if there even are any."

Sarah nods, her eyes encouraging him to continue.

"As far as the government or anyone who has ever been interested in the Intersect, I am content to let all of them believe that the last Intersect perished with Quinn. Only you and Casey saw me flash."

Sarah smiles and lets out a breath. "I was worried, Chuck. I guess I still am, a little."

"I know. In the early days, they would have just killed me. I'd already be dead. Then Beckman decided I was useful and wouldn't let me leave. Then, after Decker, she became an ally. I'd like to think that even if she knew about my last upload, she would leave us alone, though I still think it's best to keep it a Team Bartowski secret."

"But you're still a little worried?"

Chuck blows out a slow breath. "Well yeah. I mean we'll always have to be vigilant."

They take their plates into the kitchen and start cleaning up.

"Is it dangerous to you?"

"I don't think so. Assuming that this Intersect has incorporated Ellie's changes, and I think it has, it should be less dangerous than my dad's 2.0. I do know it feels smoother, more … organic. Even so I'm still wearing the governor."

"The governor?"

"Yeah, it's in my watch. Dad invented it to regulate my neural network, so that flashing won't overheat my brain and fry my circuits. Without it, there could be serious side effects, but with it, there's no problem. I have a spare, and I know how to make one."

Sarah nods, her brow still creased.

"Come here." He pulls her into a hug. "It's a lot to process. These are things you—we—processed over time. Now they're slamming you all at once. We'll deal with all of it together, little by little, until you've assimilated it, and it's no longer overwhelming." She nods against his chest.

—^v^—

After Chuck leaves, Sarah begins to take inventory of her home.

Chuck has more stuff, but then he did have a twenty-nine-year head start. Yet there are plenty of things she imagines are hers. Everywhere she looks, she sees a blended decor, a unique complementarity of tastes, and all the marks of a shared life.

She looks at everything through different eyes than she did three weeks ago. To think that she was afraid of Chuck seems absurd now, but she was. Then, she searched the apartment for evidence of his betrayal. Now, everywhere she looks, she sees evidence of nothing but love … their love. It is both heartwarming and a little intimidating.

Like the pictures: No one would look at these pictures and think that the couple is anything other than happy and in love. The man obviously adores his wife, and she is clearly in love with her husband. Sarah studies each picture. She can't reconcile the woman she remembers with the one in the photos. She doesn't remember ever feeling the happiness she sees in these pictures, in her countenance, her eyes. She smiles unconsciously. The happiness in the photos resonates with the new feelings stirring her heart and opens her eyes to simple fact that Chuck makes her happy.

Sarah pours a cup of coffee and sits down to watch their wedding video. _This is my wedding_. Surreal. The wedding party stand at the front of the church, all watching the bride at the back of the church. _They're_ _watching me_. Chuck's smile is the biggest of all, and it takes her breath away. The music begins, and everyone stands to face the rear of the church. Sarah doesn't know how she felt then, but right now, it's a little unnerving knowing that all those eyes and smiles are directed at her. Her heart speeds up.

The camera shifts. She takes Casey's arm and turns toward the front of the church. Sarah can hardly believe her eyes. She's glowing. Since when does she glow? _I guess if I could get butterflies, I could glow._ And speaking of butterflies ... they're back. Sarah feels butterflies, as she watches her calm, video-self walk down the aisle, all smiles, occasionally looking at the wedding party, but mostly keeping her eyes on Chuck. Sarah is riveted to the screen, as she says her vows. "Chuck, you're a gift …" She replays them, captivated by the confidence and simplicity of her words and the love in her eyes. "… I want to spend and learn and love the rest of my life with you." Sarah pauses the video, still amazed that this was—_IS_—her life. The video plays through Chuck's vows, and Sarah is mesmerized by every look, every word. She plays them one last time with her eyes closed, picturing the way Chuck said them to her on the beach: the love in his eyes, the conviction in his voice, and the response of her heart.

She wanders to the bedroom, and starts with her jewelry. Her eyes drawn to one piece that is different from the rest: a charm bracelet. Chuck's mother's bracelet. She remembers Chuck's story and smiles all over again. _My husband gave me this during a Christmas Eve hostage crisis. _She has the feeling that even normal life with Chuck will be anything but average. Then a different memory invades her thoughts.

_~^~^~  
>Carina hands her this bracelet. "Here, this charm bracelet looks like what some sucker in love might wear."<em>

_"Ah, no. It's not really my thing."_

_"You want to talk about what happened with him?"_

_"Do you ever wonder about a different life?"_

_"You mean like if all this was real? If we were really getting ready for my engagement party?"_

_"Yeah."  
>~^~^~<em>

That must have been during the difficult time Chuck talked about. The memory makes her sad. Then, relief washes over her that they ended up together instead of apart. She puts the charm bracelet back in its spot and opens each drawer. The drawers yield only the usual suspects: sweaters, tee shirts, tops, socks, hose, lingerie, underwear. Finally, she opens the bottom drawer: more of the same, except … a big manila envelope.

She sits on the bed and opens it. It feels odd, spying on yourself. She feels like she's invading someone's privacy. Then she remembers that the privacy she is invading is her own. She turns the envelope upside down. One page wafts down to the bed, and a ring, formed from a twisted bread-tie, lands on top of it. She smiles, remembering Chuck's story of their practice vows. She slides the makeshift ring onto her finger and looks at the paper: "Chuck. You're a gift." Her wedding vows, exactly as she said them. Holding the paper, seeing the words in her handwriting, and wearing the practice ring give anchorage to the life she knows mostly through stories and the feelings that sneak up on her.

She looks in the envelope, retrieving another sheet of paper, one large envelope, and a small one. She laughs out loud when she looks at the paper. _I didn't think people really did this._ Sarah Bartowski. Sarah L. Bartowski. Sarah Lisa Bartowski. Mrs. Sarah Bartowski. Mrs. Chuck Bartowski. Mrs. Charles Bartowski. Mrs. Charles Carmichael. Sarah Bartowski. Sarah Bartowski. Her signature, in all its various permutations, fills the page. _S_he falls back on the bed and laughs. She can't wipe the smile off her face.

She sits up and looks at the other envelope labeled "Prenup." Her smile vanishes. She pulls the contents from the envelope: one page with three lines of large print, one line of fine print, and two signatures. _That's it? _Not much of a prenup.

She reads out loud, "I Sarah Walker promise to always love Chuck Bartowski. In return he will always love me." Her smile returns, and she squints to read the fine print. "I promise Chuck that I will not even contemplate the word divorce, and I will never use my prenup."

Whatever the story behind this, Chuck's version of a prenup gives her hope. To the Bartowskis love really is this simple. {_You can't fail at this. It's just you being yourself and me loving you._}

She turns her attention to the smaller envelope, labeled: "Sarah — From Carina and Zondra — In case he doesn't tell you." _What the …_ She opens the envelope and retrieves the thumb drive.

She plugs it into her laptop and clicks on the file 'Congratulations Walker.'

Z: On three. One. Two. Three.

C & Z: Congratulations Walker.

C: Hi, Sarah. We would have told you all of this in person, but before the wedding, you were in a coma.

Z: Yeah, and after the wedding you took off on your honeymoon.

C: Go figure!

Z: Anyway, we expect you to be awake the next time we come to town.

Sarah chuckles.

C: So, I'll start, because I met Chuck before Zondra. I'll never forget the first time I saw you and Chuck. I thought you'd lost your mind: Sarah Walker, content in Snoresville, babysitting a boy scout. I knew you wanted Chuck, even then. You know I actually propositioned him, and he turned me down.

Z: Carina!

Sarah's jaw drops. _Good for Chuck. That must have stung._ She snickers.

C: What? He was just an assignment, and I thought he was kind of cute-ish. Anyway, Sarah, he wouldn't leave you to fend for yourself with Alahi. He used your sense of loyalty to guilt me into helping him _rescue_ you, instead of walking away with the diamond. He would have walked into that hostage situation all by himself, without a second thought. He had it bad for you even then.

_Why am I not surprised._ At least now he is trained … and has the Intersect.

Z: I thought you had gone way around the spy bend, too, Walker. Carina said _Chuckie_, as she called him, was some big deal to Beckman, but I didn't see it. I just saw a big … yeah ... boy scout. I'll never figure out how he made throwing stars out of DVD's with a waffle iron, though. Whatever. I will always be grateful he helped us figure out that Amy was the mole ... especially since she and Augusto Gaez turned your Porsche into shrapnel.

Aha. The Porsche mystery solved.

C: Anyway, we just want you to know we see him in a different light now, after what he did.

Z: Yeah, WAY different.

C: See, Martin …

Z: Morgan.

C: Whatever. He called us right before the wedding and told us that you were in the hospital with radiation poison from some secret weapon. Sounded like science fiction to me.

_You have no idea._

Z: So he met us at the airport and we waited outside the hospital for Chuck to show up with the antidote.

C: The place was surrounded by Decker's men. For some reason, Decker was doing everything he could to keep Chuck from getting the antidote. Casey and Mary said it got pretty ugly.

Sarah is transfixed, as Carina and Zondra describe with uncharacteristic enthusiasm and great detail the scene in front of the hospital. Chuck obviously glossed over some of the finer points: like parachuting in with the antidote, using Russian Special Forces as backup in a standoff with the CIA, and threatening a superior officer. _And where in the world did he get the Russian Special Forces? Well, Russia, obviously, but … sigh ... more questions._

Z: Your hubby's got balls, Walker. The guy was like steel,

C: didn't even blink,

Z: when all Decker's men were pointing their guns at him.

C: Yeah, I gotta say, I felt a surge of pride when I looked up at the sky and saw all those parachutes.

Z: I know, right! I've never seen anything like it ... or anyone like him. He's a good guy, Walker.

C: Yeah, don't lose him. You two belong together. It's not the life for me, but it suits you, Sarah. Congratulations. Have fun on the honeymoon.

Z: Yeah. And don't forget to invite us to the baby shower for our godchildren.

Carina and Zondra dissolve in a fit of laughter, and the video fades.

Sarah stares at her computer, stunned. Again. A slow smile replaces the shock. She married a funny nerd/boyscout/hero. There is so much more to her husband than meets the eye. Though what meets the eye is not bad either.

She returns the contents to the envelope and puts the envelope back in the bottom of the bottom drawer.

Sarah's stomach rumbles ... loudly. She wanders into the kitchen to see what she can find for lunch, absently wondering what Chuck is doing for lunch.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

_Chuck?_

She goes to the door and looks through the peep hole.

_Morgan._

She opens the door to a little bearded man with a large tray. "Morgan. Hi."

"Hi, Sarah. I thought you might be hungry or missing Chuck or just want some company … or not. Anyway I brought over some French onion soup and roast beef sandwiches."

Sarah is touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks Morgan. Ah, come in." She steps out of the way to let him in. "I am a little hungry. Soup and sandwiches would be great."

"Good. That's good. I can heat it up for you … or leave it for you for later."

"No, no. You can stay. I mean, I would appreciate the company. Maybe I could ask you some questions?"

"Really? Okay. Sure. Whatever you need."

Minutes later Sarah sits down to lunch with her ... What was it Chuck called him? Her best-friend-in-law? "Morgan this is really good."

He gives a one sided smile and a sideways shrug.

"Chuck has been slowly bringing me up to speed on the last five years of my life, and he, ah, told me that you stayed with me in the hospital when I was in a coma … before our wedding."

"Aah, all I did was sit with you and tell you stories, helping you hang on 'til Chuck could get the antidote and save you."

"Well, thank you. Um, speaking of the antidote ..."

Morgan's eyes go round.

"What did Chuck have to do to get it?"

"Oh, well, you know, he … it was just a matter of, ah … contacting the right people."

Sarah's casual tone turns serious. She pins him with a glare. "Carina and Zondra left me a video message. I just watched it."

Morgan swallows and stretches his collar. "Oh, good. See you know all about it." He huffs out a small laugh.

"I know that he parachuted onto the hospital sidewalk, in a Russian uniform, threatened a superior officer of the CIA, and called in Russian Special Forces with machine guns to get past Decker to save my life."

"Yep. That's exactly what happened."

"They also said that Casey said things had gotten pretty ugly." Sarah fingers her knife. "So, Morgan, what does pretty ugly mean … exactly?"

The color drains form Morgan's face.

"Okay. Okay. The Norseman was one of Volkoff's weapons, so Mama B quarterbacked from Castle, while Chuck and Casey broke into a Federal Super Max Penitentiary to break him out, so he could lead Chuck to the antidote. Only Decker had gotten there first, so when Chuck and Casey got there, the cell was empty, and Decker appeared on the flat screen to inform them of a wash over of Operation Bartowski. Decker said he didn't care that you were dying and ordered Chuck to stand down. Chuck said, 'No.'"

"Just like that? Chuck said … 'No.'?"

"Yeah. And then he hurled a chair into the flat screen." Sarah's jaw drops.

"I know, right?" They both smile at the image that conjured up, and Morgan tells her the rest of the story.

Once again, Sarah wishes she could remember her life. Nobody would believe this: a motorcycle that does 250, jail breaking a federal prisoner, going to Moscow, and parachuting in with the antidote and nineteen Russians. That's a little bit more involved than what Chuck told her, 'My mom and Casey helped me get the antidote.' Like they gave him a ride to the drugstore or something. She shakes her head. "Decker removed the Intersect, so he parachuted in with the antidote and threatened Decker … without it?"

"Yeah. Man, it was awesome. Decker was such a douche."

"And Decker's men tasered Chuck?"

"Yeah. In front of Casey and his mom and Hartley. They said it was … well … bad."

"How many probes?"

"Six."

Her eyes well with tears. She heads to the kitchen. "I need some water. Do you want anything?" Her voice is rusty.

"Yeah. If you could bring me one of my grape sodas."

Sarah lets out a watery chuckle. She wondered why they had so much grape soda. She gets her water and his grape soda, and they sit on the couch.

"Here's the thing, Sarah. Chuck will do anything for you."

Sarah stares at her water. "I know." Her voice is soft.

"But there's a flip side to that."

She looks at him, eyebrows raised.

"You'll do anything for him, too. I mean you guys are ... scarey. Like mama moose scary." He pops open his grape soda. "There was this time Chuck was kidnapped by a Belgian."

Sarah perks up. "Chuck told me to ask you about that."

"Oh, yeah! It's one of my favorite stories. You went on this rampage across Thailand, leaving a wake of broken bodies. When Casey and I caught up with you, you were in a sand pit with a cobra and a professional Thai killer in a fight to the death. And after that everybody in the country was talking about the Giant Blonde She-male."

Sarah cocks an eyebrow. "The what?"

"Sorry, but that's what they called you. I dug a tooth out of your arm and everything."

Sarah furrows her eyebrows. _None of that makes any sense at all._

"I guess I should start at the beginning."

"That would be helpful."

"Can I have another grape soda?"

"Help yourself. As far as I know you're the only one who drinks them."

Morgan tells her about Chuck losing the Intersect. Sarah laughs at all the ridiculous things the CIA scientists did to try to jump start it.

She seethes inside when he talks about Rye and his methods, especially PFOD therapy: Pure Fear of Death. Morgan tells her that Rye took Chuck on a super dangerous mission, theorizing that if Chuck was about to be die he would flash.

"He what!" Sarah goes ballistic.

"Yeah. That was pretty much your reaction at the time." Morgan waits for her to calm down and continues with the story to the point that Chuck is kidnapped by the Belgian. "See the Belgian found out, because of a micro dot in a fake diamond, that Chuck was the Intersect. So he kidnapped Chuck to get the Intersect. Only Chuck didn't have the Intersect."

"So, he was defenseless against a mad man, who wanted something Chuck couldn't give him."

"Basically, yeah. Now he's not, because you trained him, but then ... without the Intersect, he was in deep trouble."

"So, what happened?"

"You took it really hard. Then you went all Rambo."—Morgan chuckles.—"You did whatever you had to do to get him back. You and Casey kidnapped a Thai official." Sarah's jaw drops. "You threatened him with death by ammonia injection and found out that the Belgian had Chuck in Thailand."

"You're not serious."

"Oh yeah. I'm very serious. I was scared … partly of you, but mostly for you. Anyway, you locked Casey in a holding cell and took off to find Chuck. After striking fear in the hearts of half of Thailand and winning that pit fight, they told you where Chuck was. You burst through the door just in time to save him from the Belgian and this creepy, mad-scientist doctor, who was erasing Chuck's brain."

_~^~^~  
>She busts into the room to find Chuck in a hospital gown, strapped to a chair, with electrodes at his temples and across his forehead ... hooked up to computers and medical equipment. She runs to him and rips off the electrodes and unfastens the straps on his wrist.<em>

_"Chuck, I'm here. Come on, please wake up. Chuck listen to me. I came to rescue you. Chuck. Please ..._

_"Chuck, I love you. Please wake up. I have so much that I want to tell you. Chuck I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't care if you have the Intersect or not. Without you, I'm nobody. I'm nothing but a spy. Come back to me Chuck. I'm going to marry you."_

_She kisses him. He opens his eyes and kisses her back.  
>~^~^~<em>

All the emotions of that moment course through her: bone chilling fear, desperation, relief, and love. Consuming love. Tears pool in her eyes and cling to her lashes.

"Sarah, you got there in time. He had a few memory glitches for a while, but he was okay."

She nods. "I know."

"All that to say that he didn't do anything for you that you didn't do for him. Heaven help anybody who gets in the way when you two are protecting each other."

"Thank you, Morgan. ... For lunch and the stories."

"Aah. It's the least I could do. You're my friend, Sarah. You gave me a place to stay when Casey kicked me out, and you helped me with my first memory, after the Intersect melted my brain. "

Something peaks her curiosity. "What do you mean your first memory?"

"You were the first to realize that my … bad behavior was because of the Intersect, and you blurted out some story that Chuck had told you to help me remember who I was. That first memory was a ... sort of a key, I guess ... to bring me back."

"First memory."—Sarah stands up.—"Morgan, I need to go."

"Where are you going, Sarah?"

"To the house, our house, the house where Chuck took me. That's where I had my first memory. It must have been important, right?"

Morgan lets out a nervous laugh. "Uh, yeah. It must have been."

Sarah grabs her purse and heads out the door, leaving Morgan to lock up. She gets as far as the fountain and realizes that she needs the address, so she goes back into the apartment. Morgan is on the phone. When he sees her, his eyes go round, and he turns away. "Ah, yeah. So, I'll see you soon ... Sweetheart." He emphasizes the 'sweetheart.' "Don't be too long. I love you. ... Bye."

Sarah's spy senses tingle. "Who was on the phone, Morgan?"

"Oh, that? That was just Alex." He looks around the room, anywhere but her.

"Okay." ... _Not_ ... "I just realized I need the address to the house."

"Oh. You know what. I'm not sure I have it." He swallows.

"Morrr-gan." She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

"What do you know. It's right here in my phone. See. Here it is."

"Thank you."

"Hey, no problem. Any time. You just … you can go on, and I'll …" Sarah is out the door.

—^v^—

Sarah pulls up to the house. It's the first time she has seen it from the front. She draws in a quick breath and can't help smiling at the white house, with a red door, and a white picket fence. The perfect home, just like she always imagined. {_Sarah, I'm gonna find you your dream home. I'll do whatever it takes. I promise__**.**__}_

She walks to the door and tries the keys on her key ring. No luck. She goes to the back door and picks the lock … to her own house. She smiles.

She walks in and breathes in the smell of wood. She turns on the light and looks to her right ... at a recently installed kitchen with a tile floor, all new appliances, and maple cabinetry. On the counter is a wallet. A wallet she recognizes. She laughs. _All day install, huh?_

She walks over to the doorway into the living room, reliving the day three weeks ago when Chuck brought her here: her emotional turmoil over the man who claimed to be her husband, refused to fight her, then took a bullet for her; then the sickening realization of what Quinn had done and her confusion as she ran from the house.

She shudders and spares one final thought for Quinn: _He didn't win. We did_. She refuses to think of him again.

She studies the door frame and traces the carving.

'Sarah + Chuck'

Next she looks toward the hearth.

_~^~^~  
>The room is awash in candlelight ... romantic. She feels peaceful. "I like it here. You know I really want the life that you imagine for us, Chuck, but if we go back to the CIA, it's just going to be missions and secrets that we have no control over."<em>

_"What are you saying?"_

_"I gave my life to the CIA for a really long time, and I chose it over my family and my friends. And that was the right thing for me to do at the time, but … I'm different now. You know, things have changed. You've changed me. I don't want to go back. I want to turn down Beckman's offer."_

_"Okay. We don't need that bonus, and we don't need this house, because all we need is each other."_

_She looks at the door frame and picks up the knife. Over Chuck's protests that they don't own the home, she carves her name in the frame. "I know, but we will ... one day. One day this will all be ours, and when it is I would like to always remember this moment. So what do you say ... you still in?" She smiles up at him and holds out the knife._

_He takes the knife, kisses her head, and carves his name below hers.  
>~^~^~<em>

That certainly explains a lot.

_I'm different now. ... You've changed me. ... I don't want to go back._

And she realizes she is ... and he did ... and she doesn't. She doesn't want to go back. She is connecting with her life, with Chuck. She is beginning to feel who she is. The emotions and uncharacteristic behavior ... they're not uncharacteristic, after all. They're who she is now.

She knows exactly what she needs to do.

Sarah runs out to her car, retrieves something from a hidden compartment, and calls Morgan.

Morgan answers, "Hi, Sarah_._"

"Hi, Morgan. Ah, where's Chuck?"

"He's still out."

She smiles. "He's waiting for me to leave, so he can retrieve his wallet, isn't he?"

"How did you know that?"

"Morgan, I'm a spy. ... Besides I found his wallet."

"Oh."

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure he was coming back to the house. Oh, Morgan ... one more thing. What's his favorite delivery place?"

She leaves, drives around the block, and waits for the Herder to park at their house. When the lights go on in the kitchen, she sneaks through the front door and over to the doorway. She holds in her laughter, as she watches Chuck open all the drawers and cabinets, pivoting this way and that, searching high and low for his wallet. He finally sees her.

She holds up his wallet, trying to hide her amusement. "Looking for this?"

"Busted."

"Mm-hmm." She hands him his wallet and gives him a quick kiss.

"Sarah, I didn't lie. This really was a prearranged install. I just wanted to"

"Surprise me. I know. Chuck, it's okay." She walks to the middle of the kitchen. "It's beautiful."

"Of course it is. They were your plans. You drew the kitchen, and we picked the appliances together. You chose the cabinets. I picked the tile. And look how it turned out. We did good." She smiles at his enthusiasm. "Today was the day they scheduled to install everything."

"Well, I'm sorry I ruined your surprise."

"No, no, hey. You didn't ruin anything." He loops his arms around her waist. "I should have invited you to come. I just … didn't want to push you, didn't know if you were ready."

"I don't know that I would have been. But I am now."

"Yeah?"

She looks down.

"You want to tell me why you came here today. Morgan called me and told me to get out."

She laughs. "He's a terrible liar. I knew something was up and figured it out, when I saw your wallet." Her look turns thoughtful. "I came here because this was my first memory. The day you brought me here, I remembered the carving."

"You did, didn't you?"

"Mm-hmm. So I thought if I came here, I might remember some other things."

"Makes sense. … Did you?"

"Yes." She tugs him toward the carving. "I remembered you walking me in with your hands over my eyes and showing me the house and talking about the life we would have here. I remembered our candlelight picnic ... and carving this, together."

He smiles that beautiful little smile, the one that has begun to melt her heart every time she sees it. She was going to wait until dinner ... light the candles ... pour some wine ... but she can't wait. She just blurts it out.

"I want to be married to you. I hate that I've forgotten my life with you, and I want to remember all of it. But whether I remember our past or not, I want to build a future with you. ... I love you, Chuck."

His smile lights the room. "I love you, too."

She returns his smile watt for watt and holds out a small pouch. "I still want to spend and learn and love the rest of my life with you."

He takes the pouch and empties it into the palm of his hand ... and stares at the contents.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah? Oh."—he clears his throat—"Sarah." He takes her left hand and slides her rings back where they belong then cups her cheek and leans in for a kiss. She pulls him closer and deepens the kiss.

The doorbell interrupts. Again. Chuck looks at the door. "We could just ignore it. Nobody knows we're here."

"Yes they do."—she smirks—"I ordered Sizzling Shrimp."

"Oh, did you now?"

"Mm-hmm. Are you going to go get it?"

Chuck answers the door, while she lights the candles for their first dinner in their new home.

—^v^—

Sarah snuggles into Chuck's arms, fitting her body to his, like she has the past two nights. Only tonight, there's nothing between them. Her head on his shoulder, her legs twined with his, she lets her hand roam his bare chest. This is where she belongs. She feels complete ... and completely content. _How can that be?_

=—=—=  
>It started with a foot massage. It was heaven. She told him it was better than sex.<p>

"Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong, Mrs. Bartowski." Hot chills rippled through her. She looked at him. She couldn't not look at him.

She drew in a slow breath and managed one coherent sentence, "Give it your best shot, Mr. Bartowski."

And he did.

Desire deepened with his kiss and spread with his touch. He was in no hurry, but it didn't take him long to prove her wrong. She met his passion with her own. Love heightened pleasure, and pleasure intensified love, in an intimate spiral, like nothing she could remember or imagine. It lasted forever and ended too soon.  
>=—=—=<p>

She presses closer to him and kisses his neck. He tightens his arms in response and kisses her forehead. "Sarah?"

"Hmm?"

"Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?"


	6. Caribbean Honeymoon

**~ Caribbean Honeymoon ~**

**Thursday Morning**

Awareness filters into Sarah's mind. Warm. Cozy. She is spooned against Chuck's back. Nice. She wriggles closer and absently brushes her hand across his chest. Memories of the night before suffuse her with warmth and quicken her pulse.

She could happily stay like this indefinitely, but practical considerations and a nagging sense of responsibility force her to move. She plants a kiss on the back of Chuck's neck and drags herself across the wide expanse of mattress to get up. She grabs Chuck's shirt and heads out the door.

Chuck's voice pulls her back, "Morning, Beautiful."

She finds his sleepy face adorable. "Morning."

"Where're you goin' so early?"

She sits on the edge of the bed and runs a hand through his hair. "Chuck, it's 9:45. We're supposed to meet Ellie for lunch and get her to the airport by 2:30."

"I know. I just thought I could tempt you back into bed."

"Mmm. Tempting."—She kisses the corner of his eye.—"I'll make it up to you later."

—^v^—

Sarah leans against the kitchen counter drinking coffee and watching Chuck build his morning bowl of cereal. Against all odds, this moment and this life feel ... normal. The realization warms her to her toes. There's no time for a story, so Sarah picks an easy question. "Chuck, from Carina and Zondra's video, I know more or less what happened to my Porsche. What I still don't know, though, is how I ended up with the Lotus."

"Yeah, I should have told you about that." He sets his bowl on the table.

"No, that's okay. There was a lot to tell."

"Well, your insurance payout wasn't going to buy you a new Porsche, or any Porsche … or even a Volkswagen ... so Carina found the Lotus at a DEA auction. She was able to get it for the amount your insurance was going to pay. And of course it's worth far more than ether the insurance money or your Porsche. Theoretically, you could trade it for almost any car you wanted."

"Hmm. I guess that explains why it didn't really feel like my car … you know, something I would have picked out. I don't suppose the DEA had a Porsche?"

"Unfortunately, no. Apparently discriminating drug dealers prefer a Lotus." He pours his coffee and offers her a refill. "Changing the subject"—he waggles his eyebrows—"have you thought any more about our honeymoon?"

Before she can answer, the doorbell rings.

Morgan pops his head in the door. "Hey, Chuck, you ready, cause we're gonna be late."

Chuck gives Sarah an apologetic smile. "I almost forgot. I'm supposed to drop in at the Buymore this morning. I'll have to go now, so I can meet you and Ellie for lunch. Sorry." He gives her a quick kiss. "See you in a few." He walks out the door, then leans back in. "And the honeymoon discussion isn't over."

—^v^—

Sarah spots Ellie at a table in the sun, a glass of water with a slice of lime already waiting for her. She greets her sister-in-law with a hug. "Sarah, you look great ... happy."

Sarah feels a smile tug at her lips and color rise in her cheeks. She takes a sip of water, trying to control both. No such luck. Ellie sees Sarah's rings, and her smile momentarily eclipses the sun. To her credit, Ellie doesn't squeal. Thank heaven for small favors. "Nothing gets by you, does it Ellie?"

"Big sisters are like spies, that way." Ellie sits back and takes a sip of water. "I couldn't be happier, Sarah."

"Thank you. All the things you said helped me. A lot. You were right. The more I remember and the more I'm around Chuck, the less orphaned my emotions feel, and the less disconnected I feel from who I am."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that. Connecting with your emotions was never easy for you." Sarah looks down and smoothes the napkin in her lap. Ellie waits for her to look up. "Over the course of the last couple of years that changed, Sarah. Radically. So, I've been doubly worried for you. I'm relieved. … And don't forget, I'm always a phone call away." Ellie looks past Sarah's shoulder and changes her tone. "And there's my little brother." She gets up and hugs him.

Chuck sits down beside Sarah and gives her a quick kiss.

Sarah and Ellie order salads, and Chuck orders a double cheese burger with fries. "What? I'm hungry. You two may want to graze for lunch, but in my mind, a salad is not a meal."

Ellie fills them in on the big trip, "Devon says that they're making good time, considering they have a one-year-old and my mom's regimented stops." They all laugh. Sarah is glad she's at a sidewalk café instead of sardined in a van somewhere in Utah. Ellie continues, "I didn't tell them I was coming. When they get there, I'll already have everything ready for them. I can't wait to see the look on Devon's face."

Chuck and Sarah smile at Ellie's happiness, and Sarah gets an idea for a surprise of her own.

Chuck mentions their second honeymoon, and Ellie jokes, "Aha, you ought to call the Generalissimo. After all, you did save his country, the world, and his marriage." At Sarah's confused look, she and Chuck launch into the bizarre and entertaining tale of the Costa Graven dictator.

Sarah loves this story: the dance at the embassy, Chuck performing surgery and giving Casey's blood to the 'Stinking Commie Despot,' as Casey put it. She can't quit chuckling at the thought. The sequel is equally entertaining: accompanying Ellie and Devon on their 'babymoon' and the revolution, then going back to stop the nukes. And the impromptu marriage counseling session with Alejandro and Ortencia, some of which she remembers.

_~^~^~  
>Chuck pushes his way into the dank, basement room and right into the middle of a politico-marital show down, with nuclear implications, both foreign and domestic.<em>

_He centers his negotiation around ... their relationship? And they're buying it. "But change is unavoidable. Life is full of changes. Constantly changing. But the question is, no matter what the changes are, is the love still there?"_

_Chuck gets them talking to each other, instead of threatening to shoot each other. Then she adds some hesitant words,"Uh, that love ... that you had in the cave. That doesn't have to change."  
>~^~^~<em>

The epiphany washes over her again.

"Sarah?" Chuck and Ellie are looking at her.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I zoned out a little. I remembered some of the story as you were telling it, and my mind filled in some ... other stuff." She smiles and looks away, ending the explanation.

Soon it's time for Ellie to leave. Sarah looks at Chuck and Ellie. "I'm going to run an errand and give you two some brother/sister time at the airport. Sarah hugs her sister-in-law and friend. "I'm going to miss you, Ellie," she says, meaning it.

"I'll miss you, too. Call me any time, for any reason. We'll be back soon for a visit."

Sarah gives Chuck a kiss. "See you at home."

"Bye, Baby."

—^v^—

Sarah makes a quick stop on the way home and arrives with plenty of time to get ready for Chuck. She starts with the table, setting it for a romantic dinner: china, linen, candles, wine. Then she prepares the rest of the apartment, lighting candles everywhere. When she is satisfied that all is ready, she waits.

Finally, she hears the door open. "Sarah?"

"I'll be out in a minute. Why don't you go ahead and open the wine." She doubts he'll get that far. She sneaks out to watch. He takes in the room, with a look of appreciation. His smile grows, as he approaches the table. Then his brow knits in confusion when he looks at the wine. "What the ..." He picks up the envelope leaning against the bottle and turns it over. "Hi-C. Rootin' Tootin' … Raspberry. Hi-oh." His keys clatter to the table, knocking over a glass. As he reaches for the glass to keep it from rolling off the table, he knocks over the wine bottle. He lunges for the bottle, barely catching it before it hits the floor and stands up, hitting his head on the bottom of the table. "Ow." He puts a hand on the chair to steady himself, and his weight flips the chair on its side, leaving him flailing for balance.

Sarah lets out a tiny giggle. He looks up at her, with a mock pout … then goes completely still, transfixed by the sight of his beautiful wife, standing before him wearing nothing but a towel and a killer smile that makes him gulp.

_Good._ She reaches for his tie and pulls him into a slow, kiss. "You're a little overdressed for the party, Chuck."

He nods and squeaks out a "yeah." He follows her down the hall, removing the extraneous articles of clothing as he goes.

Much later Sarah pads into the kitchen toweling her hair. "I think we need a bigger hot water heater."

"Ellie and Awesome bought the biggest one they could find. I've installed point-of-use heaters in our house. That way we'll never run out."

"Good thinking." She wraps her arms around him from behind and rests her head against his back.

"What do you want me to cook tonight Sarah?"

"I'm taking care of dinner tonight. I found my recipe book."

He turns around and looks at her with laughter in his eyes. "Honey, you don't have a recipe book."

"Yes, I do. See." She holds up a sheaf of well-worn pages of mixed sizes. "Twenty-two pages of menus and phone numbers. _My_ recipe book." She smiles at him.

He laughs. "Well, I'm pretty sure I like all of your recipes. You're cooking. You pick."

After Sarah's home-dialed Mexican dinner, Chuck asks her again, "Sarah, where do you want to go on our honeymoon? We can do anything you like, go anywhere: a chalet in the Alps or an overwater bungalow in Fiji; National Parks or museums; camping or cruising; skiing or hiking. Whatever you want."

"Well, I've been a lot of places and done a lot of things as part of my job, but hardly ever just for fun."

"Come on." He gets up and heads to the kitchen. "Hot chocolate or tea?"

"Tea." She goes to the couch. "Where did we go on our first honeymoon?"

"Funny story about that." He hands her a mug and sits down. "We changed our honeymoon destination on the way to the airport." She raises her eyebrows. "It became a necessity after Hartley's wedding present.

"We had planned a honeymoon in the Caribbean, but Hartley's gift required us to transact some business in person, so we honeymooned in Switzerland. We stayed in some cozy B&B's"—he waggles his eyebrows—"and ate at fantastic restaurants and outdoor cafés. We hiked through some really beautiful valleys with views of snow covered Alps. We even skied from Zermatt into Italy ... all in between transacting business in several Swiss banks."

Sarah perks up. "I remember Coupe Denmarks."

"They're just ice cream sundaes, Sarah."

"Oh, no. They are WAY better than just ice cream sundaes."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"See, you remember our dessert banter."

"Mm-hmm, and the revolving restaurant at the top of the Schilthorn and Trummelbach Falls and the flying cow." _Flying cow?_ Sarah looks at Chuck totally perplexed.

"Hmm. You remember a lot. Maybe we don't need a second honeymoon."

She narrows her eyes. "You know what? Suddenly I don't remember any more."

"I'm only kidding. We are definitely going on this honeymoon." He rests his hand on her shoulder. "In spite of everything, we have some things to celebrate."

"Chuck, why don't we go back to plan A … the Caribbean."

"Yeah?" He gives her a beautiful smile.

"Yeah. You know my dad and I did a con one summer in the Hamptons. The people we conned had a yacht roughly the size of New Jersey. I remember wondering what it would be like to get on that yacht and sale around the world."

"Sarah, that's perfect. We can do a cruise in the Caribbean."

"A cruise? I don't know, Chuck. All those people. Cruise ships carry 1000 to 3000 passengers."

"Yeah, you're right. So, how about … how about we charter a very small yacht. We can do whatever we want on any of the islands: restaurants, sights, beaches, even a hotel if we get tired of the yacht."

"The rest of the time we cruise ourselves wherever we want, on our own schedule. Perfect." She feels almost giddy inside.

"Done. I'll go online and make the arrangements right now."

"_Right_ now?" She smiles at him.

"Or later. Later's fine."

**Friday Evening**

Sarah hears muffled singing coming from the bedroom and steals down the hall to investigate. She stands outside the bedroom, taking in the assorted piles of clothes, beach paraphernalia, games, books, and electronics on their bed. True to his word, he over packs, and there are two of almost everything. As she surveys the scene, Chuck swaggers from the closet, singing, "Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirates life for me." He's dressed in swim trunks, a vest, and his chucks. The tail of a pirate's head scarf dangles from beneath his tri-corner hat; a black patch covers his right eye; and a sword swings from his left hip. She walks into the room trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle her laughter.

"What?" He walks around the bed and stands in front of her. "Sarah. This"—he sweeps his hands down his outfit—"is from Disneyland. Pirates of the Caribbean. I was just getting in the mood. … Arrrggghh."

"Oh. Well, that makes it better," she deadpans. "I'm sure it will come in very handy for blending in with all the other pirates."

"Ah ha ha ha. Come 'ere, www..." Her eyes go wide. He swallows. "wife." He chases her down the hall, into the kitchen, and pins her against the counter with his arms on either side of her. She is breathless, but not from the chase. She swallows. _How does he do that?_ She can't take her eyes off him. He leans in tantalizingly close, only to bypass her lips and swoop in to ravish her neck with ticklish kisses.

She laughs and squirms. In the blink of an eye, she turns the tables and pins Chuck. "Arrgghh," Sarah mimics, a predatory gleam in her eye.

**Early Sunday Morning, Puerto Rico**

Chuck and Sarah arrive at Roberts Marina at the appointed hour, 7:00 AM, to board their yacht, a 25' cabin cruiser. They walk into the office and up to the counter, where an older teen is absorbed in a phone call. She looks at them and goes back to her conversation.

Chuck clears his throat.

The girl holds the phone against her shoulder and looks at Chuck. "Hold on a sec."

Chuck takes that as his cue to speak, "We're here about a boat."

"Don't have any." She puts her phone back to her ear.

"Ah, excuse me. Sorry. But we have a reservation."

"I gotta go." The girl disconnects her call, pops her gum, and stares at Chuck.

"My wife and I reserved a cabin cruiser for a couple of weeks … Charles Bartowski."

The girl flips through several lists and hits some keys on the computer. "Bar-who?"

"Bartowski. B-a-r-t-o-w-s-k-i."

More rifling of papers. More clicking of keys on the keyboard. "Nope, sorry, we don't have any boat in that category available."

"Okay. Well, what categories do you have available?"

"Nope, nope, nope, and ... nope. We don't have any, actually."

"What do you mean you don't have _any_? I just made this reservation two days ago. I talked to Ned Roberts. Is he in?"

"Yeah."

"Well, may we speak to him?"

"I guess." She disappears into a back office, and Chuck and Sarah look at each other dumbfounded.

A few minutes later, the slap of flip-flops on tile signals the arrival of Ned Roberts, a tall, disheveled man in his mid fifties, with a mop of unruly, salt-and-pepper hair, a scruffy white beard, blue eyes and a ready smile. His half buttoned shirt is only partially tucked into his shorts. A gold stud in his left ear and a copper bracelet, with its telltale green shadow, complete the ensemble. "Good morning." He extends a hand, first to Chuck, then to Sarah. "Can I get you a cup of coffee? Juice? Water?"

"No thank you, Mr. Roberts," Sarah says with a pleasant smile.

"Ned. Just Ned." He smiles a little bigger.

"And I'm Chuck. This is my wife Sarah. I'm hoping you can help us, Ned. I talked to you two days ago and reserved a cabin cruiser for two weeks. This morning your … receptionist told me you don't have any cabin cruisers … or any other boats."

"No, no, she's right. Spring break just ended, and most of my fleet is down south … Trinidad and Tobago. Like you, everybody wants to sail from here to Trinidad and fly home. My partner, Rick Mitchel, runs a sister marina at that end. I had a cabin cruiser due in here yesterday, in plenty of time to get her ready for you and your wife, but the old man who took her out ran her right into a reef. Put a nice gash in the hull. She's not going anywhere for a while."

Sarah gives Chuck's hand a sympathetic squeeze.

"Well, I'm at a bit of a loss. We're on our honeymoon, and we were really looking forward …"

"Your honeymoon? Oh no. Your honeymoon. Oh my. I feel terrible." Ned pushes his fingers through his grizzly hair, and retrieves a pair of reading glasses with one of the temples missing. He balances the glasses on his nose and one ear, sits down at the computer, and begins to search. He finally looks up at them. "There is one possible solution, but it's not ideal."

"Well, I'm pretty open to suggestions at this point." Chuck tries to smile.

"Okay, like I said, most of my fleet ended up down south. Oh, I hate to even ask you to do this. But if you think you could do your trip in reverse … start in Trinidad and end here in Puerto Rico … then I can offer you some options. I'll even give you an upgrade to one of our best boats, just to make up for the inconvenience. Fuel's on me. I'd have to find a way to get her up here anyway."

"Do you mind if we talk it over."

"Oh no. Yeah, sure, take your time. Help yourself to coffee or whatever." With a wave, he disappears again.

Chuck looks at Sarah, disappointment in his eyes. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I wanted everything to be perfect."

"Chuck, it's okay. As long as we're together, what does it matter if we start in the south and finish here?" She circles her arms around his waist. "I don't care if we start in Trinidad or Tobago or South Africa, as long as we're together."

"Really?"

"Of course. South to North … North to South. What does it really matter?"

"Okay." His face softens and he smiles, apparently happy that she's happy.

He rings the bell and waits for Ned.

Ned seems pleased to have worked out a solution. "Oh, good. I appreciate your flexibility. Again, I am really sorry, but you are going to love this boat. She's a 70' power catamaran with twin 950 horsepower engines, auto pilot, solar panels, and all the comforts of home: full kitchen, king size bed, flat screen, jacuzzi … satellite. She'll do up to 50 knots, or you can even cut the engine and raise the sail."

Sarah is watching Chuck. All signs of disappointment are gone. He absorbs the information with intent focus. "So, Ned, is she a planing cat or a displacement cat?" Chuck knits his brow.

"Wow, Chuck. A man who knows his boats. I'm impressed. Semi-displacement. Is that a problem."

"No. Not at … all. I don't even know why I asked, really." Chuck laughs.

Ned puts Chuck and Sarah and their luggage on a charter flight to Trinidad. "I'll call Rick. He'll have the _Princess Bride_ ready and waiting for you. Best wishes to you both, and enjoy your honeymoon."

Once in the air, Sarah loops her arm through Chuck's and rests against him. "I didn't know you knew so much about yachts."

"I didn't."

"Well, you could've fooled me."

"Sarah, I _didn't_ ... until Ned started talking. Then all of a sudden I knew everything about boats."

She lifts her head and looks at him, brow crinkled. "Did you flash?"

"Apparently. But it felt … different. I don't know … not like my old flashes."

She searches his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then that's all that matters."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Sarah closes her eyes and leaves Chuck to read the ship's manual, which looks to be the size of the LA phone book and about as interesting. Next thing she knows, she feels the wheels touch down and looks at Chuck, stifling a yawn. "That was quick. How'd you do with the manual."

"Finished it."

"Oh, that's good." He points to his head. Her eyes widen in understanding. "Ohhh."

**Aboard the Princess Bride**

Chuck joins Sarah on the top deck for sandwiches. "That looks good. I'm starved."

"Me, too. Did you get the autopilot set up?"

"Yeah. It's pretty much plug 'n' play … or plug 'n' sail, as the case may be. I plugged in the coordinates for our destination and desired time of arrival, and voilà. There's even wireless access to the whole system."

"And you'll have an app on your phone for all this by …" she teases.

"Tonight at the latest. I'll also hook us up to our satellite so we can track our progress and scout ahead."

"My Nerd." She runs her fingers through his hair on the way to get ice and drinks.

"Ned and Rick were very accommodating weren't they? Can you believe this yacht?!"

She grins. "Isn't this better than sharing a cruise ship with 2000 other people, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Definitely, Mrs. Bartowski."

After lunch clean-up, Sarah finds Chuck in the cockpit. She stands behind him, rubbing his shoulders then leans down and kisses his cheek. "I think I'll leave the hacking to you and go unpack. Do you want me to unpack your bag, too?"

"If you don't mind, that would be great. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Sarah leaves Chuck on the bridge, a mezzanine that runs the full width of the beam. The ship's wheel and all the navigation equipment occupy the cockpit on the left, and a large sitting area takes up the right half. Sarah descends from the bridge to the ample master suite, situated in the forward section of the main deck. She makes quick work of organizing their clothes in the closet and drawers. As she closes Chuck's empty suitcase, something catches her eye. She unfolds the paper, and her breath catches when she sees the drawing. She sits on the bed and reverently traces each figure on the page, remembering the intimate moment. After a few minutes, she tucks the drawing back into its hiding place … and the memory into her heart.

—^v^—

After dinner, anchored in the bay of Petit St Vincent, they relax in the jacuzzi on the top deck and watch the reflections of the harbor lights dance on the water.

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me a story?"

He smiles. It has become a favorite ritual for both of them. "Sure, Baby, but let's get out of here before we turn into a couple of prunes."

The master suite is amazing. The windows give them a 180 degree view of the horizon, and when the sun goes down, the huge sky light becomes a canopy of stars over their king size bed. Chuck and Sarah lie cuddled beneath the stars, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat. She closes her eyes and listens to a spy story about a tiger on another king size bed.

"It all started when Beckman sent us some big deal, veteran spy couple to be our role models."

"The Turners. She was a lush, and he was a philanderer." She opens her eyes.

"Yeah. You remember?"

"Yes. No. I mean that's all. I have no idea what comes next."

"Well, we were supposed to steal some decryption software from a German, Otto Von"

"Vogle." Sarah sits up.

"Do you remember what comes next?"

"No. Sorry." She lies back down.

"That's okay. So, we went with the Turners to Otto's estate."

Sarah listens to the hilarious Turner debacle and their harrowing theft of the tiger's collar. She feels a swell of pride over their tracking down the Turners and can hardly believe the part about the tiger in their apartment and Ellie's feline-ravaged home.

"Chuck, I remembered a lot of that." Her eyes light up with excitement.

"That's fantastic. Sarah, that means your memories are coming back."

"Well, sort of. You know when you watch a movie you think you haven't seen, and you remember every scene as it happens but can't for the life of you remember what comes next?"

"Yeah."

"That's how I remembered the story … only as you told it, but not before."

"But still ... Honey, that's huge."

"I know." Hope surges through her, fueling her smile and the passion of her kiss. Soon the tiger is forgotten.

**Monday Morining, March 19th**

Having sailed a short distance around Petit St Vincent, they drop anchor off the completely deserted north shore of the island. They stroll along the wide white beach, enjoying the breeze and picking up shells. Sarah scoops up a perfect cowrie and adds it to their growing collection. "You know the beach, playing in the waves and looking for shells is one of my few happy family memories."

"Hmm. I remember the last time our family all went to the beach. I was nine. It was two days before my Mom left. In retrospect, I've wondered if that's why we went, because she knew that she was leaving to go undercover. After that, after Mom left, it was never the same." She tightens her hold on his hand. He tugs her close and faces her. "But this … is a perfect day."

"Yes, it is." She gives him a tender kiss. "A new memory to treasure."

They wade into the clear emerald water, and Sarah gets an idea. It would be so nice to dive for fun, like normal people. No mission, no bad guys, no danger ... just fun. And what better place than this? "Chuck, look. Just beyond that sand spit with the thatched shelter"—she points to a tiny island off shore—"there are beautiful coral reefs."

"I know. I thought we could take a glass-bottom boat ride from one of the islands, so we could see some of the reefs."

"Mm-hmm, it would be a real shame to come all this way and not see them." She circles her arms around his waist. "But I have a better idea."

Chuck smiles, mesmerized by his wife. Then his eyes widen in understanding. "Oh, no, wait"—he gives a nervous laugh—"you want to strap an oxygen tank on my back, drag me underwater to the dark realm of scary creatures, and make me suck air through a tube."

"Chuck."—she tugs him closer and cuts her eyes up at him—"First of all, we won't have to go that deep. This is a shallow reef, and there will be plenty of light at that depth."

He opens his mouth to speak, but Sarah keeps talking.

"Second"—she kisses his cheek—"I'll teach you everything you need to know. This type of dive is very easy."

He gives her a half smile. "What about the scary creatures."

"I'm your ninja-lioness-protector, remember? I've got your back. If it makes you feel better, I'll be packing. Just in case."

"You have a gun that fires under water?"

"No, but there's a small pneumatic spear gun with the scuba equipment."

"Okay." He gives her a full smile. "Let's do it."

After loading the dinghy with a cooler, assorted beach stuff, and scuba gear, they cross the short distance to teeny, tiny Mopion Island.

Sarah teaches Chuck everything she knows about scuba diving and explains all of the equipment. He absorbs every detatil.

They spend the afternoon exploring the coral reef, and enjoying the multipurpose shelter on the tiny sandspit that calls itself an island.

The reef is amazing. They move weightlessly through a serene world of timeless beauty, where a labyrinth of living coral provides a colorful habitat for exotic creatures.

Chuck dives like a pro. He taps Sarah's arm and points out the leafy dragons and other sea horses. Then he draws back in mock fright, as he points to an eel. They marvel at all the colors and shapes of sponges and corals and count the different varieties of starfish.

The best part for Sarah is watching Chuck. He has this childlike fascination with … everything, whether it's the fish swimming around them or the shy creatures playing hide and seek in the nooks and crannies of the coral. She taps his shoulder and points to a huge sea turtle, and they watch until it paddles out of view.

Fun. She's relaxed. She's happy. And she's having fun ... especially being with Chuck. Seeing the beauty and wonder through his eyes lets her see it twice.

—^v^—

She stands at the aft rail on the main deck, which is open on three sides. She feels Chuck behind her and reaches back for his arms, wrapping them around her and resting her arms on his. She leans back against him. "Can we just stay like this forever?"

"Fine by me." He holds her and rubs her cheek with his. "What are you thinking, Sarah?" He kisses her neck.

"How close I came to losing myself and all of this. How close I came to losing you."

"But you didn't," he whispers in her ear and tightens his arms.

"A week ago I felt so lost, but you found me and started giving me my life back." She cranes her neck to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Chuck."

"I love hearing you say it, and I love you back, Sarah."

Twilight turns to night, and a waning crescent moon diffuses soft light over the ocean. Chuck opens an app on his phone, and lights in the hulls illumine a circle of water under the boat.

Soft music fills the air, and Chuck whispers in her ear, "You wanna dance?"

"Mm, that sounds nice."

He pulls her onto their own private dance floor in the middle of the Caribbean, and they dance to Chuck's honeymoon mix.

Sarah looks around, then looks at Chuck. "I think we can scratch the idea of staying in any of the island hotels."

"Really? I thought you had a couple of places picked out where you wanted to stay."

"Chuck, that was when you had chartered a floating pup tent. This is a floating apartment."

He smiles. "Yeah, what hotel could possibly give us this?"

"Our own private dance floor, right on the water." She circles her arms around his neck.

"Our own king size bed under the stars." He rests his forehead on hers.

"Even our own private ocean."

"Where we can go for a swim anytime we want." He pulls her closer.

"Mm-hmm. Swimwear optional," she purrs in his ear.

Chuck slows their dance to a complete stop.

Sarah captures his gaze and lets her eyes roam to his lips and back to his eyes. She gives him a shy smile.

Chuck pulls her tight against him and kisses her breathless. She pulls back and flashes him a flirtatious smile.

He clears his throat. "I'll go get the towels."

**Tuesday Morning**

After a refreshing jog/walk on the beach and a Caribbean breakfast from their well stocked larder, Sarah passes through the bridge and glances toward the cockpit with its impressive array of computers and navigational equipment. She shakes her head at the chocolate smudges her hacker husband left on the console. "Chuck, why didn't you wipe off your chocolate smudges?"

He comes up behind her. "What chocolate? Whose smudges?"

Sarah points to the evidence and quirks an eyebrow.

Chuck squints at the smudges, then looks at her with amazement in his eyes. "Sarah, those aren't my smudges. They belong to a man named Elyas Montoya ... known in the criminal world for his association with the North Valley drug cartel."

"Chuck … how do you know that?" she asks, incredulous.

"His finger prints are in the DEA data base."

"And you know this because ...?" Her confusion turns to suspicion.

He points to his head with a half smile and a look of amazement.

"Chuck, is that normal? I mean your brain, or the Intersect, just ran a finger print." Suspicion slowly morphs into incredulity.

"It was never normal before. I'm telling you, Sarah, this Intersect is different."

She crinkles her brow, incredulity and suspicion now replaced with worry. "Different bad or different good? And different how?"

"I don't think it's bad. It's just … more integrated with my brain … faster, smoother … and obviously updated with new information and capabilities." He looks back at the finger prints. Then looks at Sarah. "But you know what? That's not what I'm worried about right now. I want to know what drug cartel finger prints are doing in our honeymoon yacht."

"Agreed. That's the million dollar question, and I have an idea where to start looking for answers."

He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to one side.

"The cabins in the hulls, the ones that are closed off because we don't need them."

They go down through the galley/dining/living area and down the steps into the starboard hull of the catamaran. Chuck hands Sarah a lock pick and she goes to work on the aft cabin door. Everything looks normal. They search the bathroom, the closets, and all the drawers. "Nothing." Sarah blows out a breath of frustration.

Chuck plops down on the bed to think. "Oof."

They look at each other and throw off the bed spread. It looks like a normal mattress. They test the surface with their hands. But it sure doesn't feel like a normal mattress. Chuck raises his eyebrows, giving Sarah a pointed look. She reaches for her knife and stoops to slit the bottom edge of the mattress. No need. Beneath the corded seam around the top of the mattress, is a zipper. She looks at Chuck then hooks the zipper tab with her lock pick and tugs. They peal back the mattress cover to reveal a mattress full of kilogram bundles of cocaine. They zip the mattress closed and cover the bed with the bedspread, before going to search the other three cabins.

After the shock of finding the first mattress full of cocaine and the somewhat less shocking discovery of three more queen-size, cocaine mattresses, they return to the galley. Sarah sets a cup of coffee down in front of Chuck. "How much do you think is there?"

"Four queen size mattresses? I'd say"—he purses his lips and looks up doing speed math—"almost 4 metric tons."

"Nearly half a billion." She sits down across from him.

"I'd say so, yeah." They take a sip of coffee. "Sarah, what do we do next?"


	7. Pirates of the Caribbean

**~ Pirates of the Caribbean ~**

**Disrupted Honeymoon**

Sarah stares out at the ocean, tamping down her irritation for the unwelcome intrusion on her honeymoon. Then she switches into spy mode and looks back at Chuck. "Before we notify anyone, I think we need to have a better idea what's going on."

"Agreed, so what do you suggest?"

"Well ... Mr. Two-of-Everything Bartowski, we'll use one of your cans of cocoa and your C.S. Eye to dust the boat for prints. That way we can at least know the players."

"See, it's a good thing I buy two of everything."

They start in the hulls with the cocaine bundles. "Okay, Sarah. You dust the prints, and I'll use the fingerprint app in my phone ..."

"You have an app for that?" She rolls her eyes. "Of course, you do. Will it run the prints?"

"If we had access to all the databases, yes. But we don't, so ... no. What it will do is identify unique fingerprints and build a database."

"So you won't have to flash as much."

"Right. It's too bad we don't have those bio-residue goggles. This would be a lot less messy." At Sarah's confused expression, Chuck begins the story of the Intersect twins, Captains Ricky and Vickie. While they work he tells her the story.

Sarah uses a cosmetic brush and cocoa—or talcum powder for darker surfaces—to methodically dust the cocaine packages and the cabins, all the while laughing about Yana, threats of chopping off Casey's hand, and tranquing Morgan. When she's finished, Chuck begins to systematically photograph the cabin. From the photos, the app builds a database of unique fingerprints, assigning them ID numbers and tracking their frequency and locations.

By the time they finish the cabins, Chuck gets to the point in his story about finding the nuclear bomb. Sarah faces him with a quizzical look. "And you defused it with fruit juice?"

"How did you know?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. That's exactly what happened." He finishes the story.

Sarah smiles, both at the story and her returning memories. "I'm still more or less remembering things as you tell them, but the fruit juice idea popped into my head out of nowhere the other day, when you were under the dash in Devon's van … along with the memory of you defusing a bomb under my feet in the Lotus."

He grins and swoops her into a hug, which turns into a rather possessive kiss. She pulls away, before it turns into something more. She flashes him an impish grin. "You're just trying to distract me and get out of running these prints."

"Sarah. I'm just happy you're remembering things."

"I know." She returns his smile and points to his phone. "Now get to work."

Chuck goes through the database of prints he just created, concentrating on each unique fingerprint. His brain or the Intersect or a combination of the two—she's not sure which—runs it against all databases in the Intersect, until he finds a match.

While they repeat the process throughout the rest of the yacht, Chuck tells her about their various bomb defusing adventures.

They eat lunch at the table in the spacious galley and piece together their findings. Chuck loads the database and photos into his laptop and runs a companion program that creates a 3D model of the space with color coded fingerprints. He beams it to the flat screen and starts with the cabins in the hulls. "Besides Rick and Ned—we'll get to them later—the only prints in the hulls that were registered in any database are from two Venezuelan soldiers. Color them red."

"Chuck, did you design this program?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It's fantastic. That's why."

He shoots her a goofy nerd grin and drawls an endearing, "I'm glad you like it, Mrs. Bartowski."

_How did I ever concentrate on work with him?_ "Those fingerprints make sense, Chuck. Rogue factions in Venezuelan military have been linked to drug trafficking."

"Yeah. More specifically they have facilitated drug trafficking for FARC."

"Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia?"

"Right. Just your jungle variety insurgents whose hobbies include drug trafficking, kidnapping, executions, torture, and child recruitment.

"Now, Elyas Montoya's prints, which are"—Chuck hits a key on his laptop—"orange, weren't found anywhere near the drugs or in the hulls ... only in the cockpit and on the refrigerator. Guess the guy got thirsty."

"Two different drug trafficking operations: the FARC/Venezuela alliance and the North Valley cartel." She looks up at Chuck. "Not what I'd call good news."

"Yeah. I mean, no. But it gets better ... or, worse."

She raises her eyebrows.

"Rick Mitchel's prints, the green ones, are everywhere, as one might expect, since he runs the Trinidad marina. And his prints only show up in the DMV database. So far, so good."

"I hear a 'but' coming."

Chuck nods. "But. His wife, Sofia Mitchel, left her prints on the top deck around the bar—the yellow ones."

"So?"

"So, before she married Rick, she was Sofia Scarpa. Her father was a capo of the Colombo family … of the mafia Colombo's. She was in the car with Scarpa, Sr. when a rival family made an attempt on his life."

"Chuck, that doesn't prove any wrong doing on their part."

"That's true, but you have to admit it's suspicious, especially since his thumb print was found on the zipper pulls." Chuck goes back to the cabin view and zooms in on the incriminating green fingerprint.

"Well, yes, that certainly makes a more convincing case for their involvement." She knits her brow. "What about Ned's prints. Weren't his prints all over the boat, too?"

"You would think so, wouldn't you?"

"They're not?"

"Not under that name."

"That's never good."

"The other set of prints found all over the yacht, in the same abundance as Mitchel's,"—Chuck hits a key, and a host of blue finger prints appear—"belong to a man who has been dead for almost forty years."

Sarah raises an eyebrow.

"Tony Colombo. He died in an auto accident a couple of years after an assassination attempt on his father, Joseph Colombo. His charred remains were identified from dental records … by the family dentist."

"Joseph Colombo, as in the former head of the Colombo mafia."

"Bingo."

"Can it get any worse?"

"Oh, Sarah."—He stares at her.—"Don't say that."

"What?" She crinkles her brow. "But why didn't you flash on Ned, or Tony, the other day?"

"Thirty-eight years, a little plastic surgery, and a scruffy white beard changed his appearance, but now, after flashing on his prints and then his old picture, I see that his eyes and earlobes are the same."

"Okay. Were his finger prints found in incriminating places?"

"No, just the cabin door knobs." Chuck takes a sip of orange juice. "Tony and Sofia both witnessed assassination attempts on their fathers. Both went into hiding. Somehow they found each other, probably a family link, and started a low key family business."

"If you call a half a billion dollar shipment low key." They munch on their sandwiches, mulling over the latest intrusion into their lives.

After lunch, Sarah finds Chuck at the aft rail of the main deck, staring out at the water. She walks up beside him and circles her arms around his waist. He puts his arm around her and kisses the top of her head.

"Talk to me, Chuck."

"I can't get free, Sarah. All I want is a normal life"—he looks at her—"with you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and making you happy. Raise a family with you." Her heart flutters. He looks back at the ocean. "I'm sorry, Sarah. No matter what I do, the Intersect, the spy world, and now the underworld of mafias and drug cartels keep interfering in our life ... hurting you." His eyes hold such sadness.

"Chuck,"—she swallows the lump in her throat—"evil people do evil things, and they are to blame for the things they do." She steps between him and the rail and locks eyes with him. "This is not your fault. Even with sizable gaps in my memory, I know that you saved me three times. Four, counting the bomb in the Lotus. And that doesn't include the times I don't remember yet. Or this time ... with Quinn."

"Sarah, I didn't …"

"Chuck. Yes, you did ... even beyond diving in front of the bullet. You didn't give up on me. You found me and gave me my life back. And you still are … right now."—She holds his face with her hands.—"Giving me a honeymoon that I can remember ... and not for cartels and mafias." She stands on tip-toe, and kisses him … thoroughly. "The mafia had the poor taste and deplorable lack of judgment to intrude on my honeymoon. Well, they picked the wrong honeymoon couple to use as drug mules."

A bemused smile tugs at Chuck's lips.

"What?" Her voice is timid.

"Nothing."

"Chuck."

"You're just so adorable when you're on the warpath."

"Hmm." She links her hands behind his neck. "Well, I think we need a break before we get back to planning the war."

—^v^—

They take their time swimming back from their honeymoon shelter, as they now call it. "We're probably not in immediate danger, unless they've bugged the boat," Sarah reasons.

"Yeah, so first thing when we get back to the boat, we check for cameras and bugs."

Sarah shudders. "It seems like a pretty straight forward mafia/cartel drug operation, except for Montoya. He's in the wrong cartel.

"And his prints are nowhere near the drugs."

"So, we need to search around his prints and figure out how he fits into this."

—^v^—

"All clear. No bugs, no surveillance, no alarms." Chuck gives Sarah the thumbs up. "Did you find any?"

"Nope."

They go to the bridge and search the cockpit, where Montoya's finger prints were found. "Ah, Chuck?" Sarah steps back holding up the cushion of the captains chair, revealing C-4 molded into the frame of the seat."

"Oh. Oh. That's not good."

"Chuck, we need to find the detonator."

They find wires running from the underside of the seat down through the support column, under the carpet, up into the console, and into a cell phone with other wires attached to it. Chuck disconnects the charging cable, takes the back off the phone and removes the battery, then removes the wires. "Done." They heave a sigh of relief.

"So, either Montoya wants to sabotage the operation …" Chuck puts the phone back together, sans battery.

"Not likely, at least not solely."

"Right. Why would you blow up half a billion in cocaine? He would hijack the drugs first …"

"Then blow up the boat. Chuck, we've landed in the middle of turf wars between insurgents and drug cartels and mafia families."

"That's the bad news, but the good news is that they're not going to get away with it."—He looks at the fingerprints—"Sarah, maybe Montoya messed with the computer." Chuck goes into hacking mode, his fingers flying over the keyboard and his eyes speeding through screen after screen of numbers and code. Finally he stops and faces her with a look of triumph. "Found it. Clever boy."

"What?"

Chuck pulls up a map. "Once we enter this northwest quadrant, sometime after we leave St Barts, his code hijacks the system, programming the auto pilot to alter our course, all the while giving us the readings we expect. Then here in open waters the engines will throttle way back and some of our systems will shut down: all communications, the manual override, and the early radar warning system. A kayak could catch us."

"Then his men will board the yacht, bind or kill the passengers—meaning us—off load the cocaine, and scuttle the ship."

"Mm-hmm. It will look like an accident. Ned will be out of business and none the wiser; North Valley will get back some of their business from FARC; and some other family will take over Ned's Caribbean drug route."

"So," Sarah asks, "now that we know exactly what we're dealing with, who do we call, and what do we tell them?"

—^v^—

"Congratulations," Beckman deadpans, "but surely you didn't call me out of my … meeting to tell me about your second or third … or whatever honeymoon this is for you two."

"No, General. Of course not," Chuck says.

"General," Sarah explains, "we were sort of exploring the yacht and found cocaine on board."

"That's hardly a national emergency. How many packets did you find?" Beckman looks put out.

"Four ..." Beckman scowls, and Chuck continues, "queen size mattresses, filled with kilogram packets, in bundles of ten." Beckman's scowl turns to full attention. "We estimate about four metric … tons."

"Bartowskis, that's not a national emergency. That's an international incident."

Chuck gives her a brief rundown of their experience renting the yacht from Ned Roberts and his partner Rick Mitchel.

About that time a familiar voice comes through the speakers, "Diane, where are you hiding, my Flower?"

Chuck and Sarah lower their heads and look at each other sideways, trying mightily to contain their laughter. About that time Roan bends down next to Beckman and looks into the monitor. "Oh, hello, Charles … Sarah. What a nice surprise." He whispers something in Beckman's ear. Her face reddens, and she gives him a slight nod.

"General," Chuck mercifully steers the conversation to more comfortable territory, "we dusted the boat for fingerprints, and I created a database of all the prints, including photos of where they were found. I'll send you the file, and we'll wait to hear back from you. Tomorrow will be fine … for all of us." He smiles.

Beckman is still not smiling, but she seems to have lost her surly edge. "Okay, Chuck. You two acted intelligently and did the right thing. Nothing less than I'd expect." She softens. "And Sarah. I'm glad to see you're … finding yourself." A small smile tugs at her lips. "Goodnight, team." With that their flat screen goes to the familiar blue background with the DNI seal.

Chuck and Sarah look at each other and bust out laughing.

They fix a late spaghetti supper together and eat on the back deck. Chuck lifts his glass. "You know I could get used to this."

"Mm, me, too." Sarah touches her glass to his.

For the rest of their dinner Chuck regales Sarah with the tale of Roan Montgomery and his double seduction of Fatima Tazi: Casey hiding under the bed, them hiding behind the tapestry, Chuck's sneeze, the dungeon, and Casey trying to seduce the rather portly femail guard. By now tears stream down Sarah's face from laughter. By the time Chuck gets to the part about Casey in the wall and Beckman with her rocket launcher, Sarah is wide-eyed. As they clear the table, Chuck tells her about Beckman as a dirty blonde in the 80's and the pact she made with Roan.

Later they lie in bed, cuddled beneath their canopy of stars. "Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Beckman and Roan's story makes me a little sad."

"What? Sarah, why?" He kisses her forehead.

"They'll never have this." She presses closer to him.

"No, but they seem to be happy with what they have."

She lifts her head and looks at him. "That's because they don't know what they don't have. I've had what they have ... with Bryce." She adds the last with a quiet voice. She holds his gaze. "It doesn't begin to compare with this. This is simple. It's real. It's … everything." She kisses him.

He pulls her close, and the look in his eyes holds her captive. "Sarah, nothing compares with this." He brushes a strand of hair out of her eye and returns her kiss, tender at first, then full of passion … the passion she has come to crave and freely reciprocate. All thoughts of cartels and mafia are forgotten until morning.

**Wednesday Morning**

By 9:00, they're ready for Beckman's call. "Good morning, Chuck, Sarah."

"Good morning, General," they say in unison.

"I'm conferencing in Agent Miller. You'll be working with her on this operation. It is politically sensitive, and the President wants it handled with the utmost discretion. I want to involve as few agents as possible. Retired or not, you're still my best team."

The screen splits, and Carina's face appears to the left of General Beckman's. "Sarah. Second honeymoon already? How was the first one? Hi Chuckie."

Chuck waves. Sarah freezes. "Oh, it was ... nice. Really nice."

Chuck looks at his wife and helps her out. "We had a wonderful Swiss holiday. The …"

"Enough, girls and boy. We have more pressing matters to discuss." Beckman takes charge.

"Chuck, we ran the prints you sent me. Nice job, by the way." Chuck and Sarah listen as Beckman gives them the same information they already know. "I'm not sure why Tony Colombo's prints are everywhere, unless he is Ned Roberts. There are no fingerprints or photos for Ned Roberts in any database, which is suspicious, in and of itself. Chuck, Sarah, take a look at this picture of Tony Colombo. Could Ned Roberts be Tony Colombo?"

Sarah looks at Chuck who pretends to scrutinize the photo. "Well, obviously he's much older now, but the eyes and earlobes look the same. So, I'd say ... yes." Chuck looks at Sarah, and she gives him an imperceptible nod.

"Then it seems there is a drug connection between FARC and the Colombo family, facilitated by factions in the Venezuelan military. I'll order a discreet investigation into the money trails. Agent Miller, do you have anything to add?"

Agent Miller seems more interested in watching the newlyweds.

"Agent Miller."

"Yes, General. Not really. This particular operation is under our radar, as far as I know. The names Tony Colombo and Sofia Scarpa have never come up, except in history lessons."

"The player that doesn't fit," Beckman continues, "is Elyas Montoya. Any thoughts, team?"

Chuck and Sarah exchange looks, and Sarah gives Chuck a nod. Carina watches with fascination. Chuck raises his hand.

Beckman rolls her eyes. "Yes, Chuck."

"Ah, General, now that you mention it. Yesterday ..."—Sarah's eyes widen slightly—"last night, actually, after we talked to you, Sarah and I found some interesting things around the cockpit … area."

"Like what?" Beckman asks.

"Like a big block of C-4."

"And you failed to mention this, why?" Beckman scowls.

Sarah jumps in. "We were listening to your Intel, General."

Beckman adds a raised eyebrow to her scowl. "And now I'm listening to yours."

Chuck starts talking, "Well, we traced the wires to a cell phone detonator, which we disabled."

Sarah continues where Chuck leaves off, "And since these isolated fingerprints were near the computer, Chuck hacked into the computer, and …" She looks at Chuck.

"I found extraneous code embedded in the system. Basically, it's designed to take over the navigational system and hijack the yacht internally."

Sarah beams a look of pride at her husband. "So thanks to Chuck, we know where and when the hijacking will go down."

Carina rolls her eyes. "So it looks like the North Valley cartel wants to hijack this business and set up shop with another mafia family. The quantity of the shipment seems to point to one of the big five."

Beckman levels her gaze at Chuck. "Chuck, you two don't seem very surprised by any of my Intel. In fact, you didn't ask a single question. If I didn't know better, I might think you already knew all this."

"What-who? Us? No. We ..."

"I don't want to know." Beckman purses her lips.

Carina watches the exchange and narrows her eyes.

"You two will meet Agent Miller in Rodney Bay on St Lucia in two days to plan the operation. She will bring you whatever equipment you need. Agent Montgomery and I will be in the area. Keep me informed." Beckman pushes a button and disappears.

Now only Carina is on the screen. "Okay, Sarah, dish. I want to hear all about the honeymoon."

Sarah suppresses an embarrassed smile, and her eyes soften. "We're on this fabulous yacht, anchored in the most beautiful spot, with a beach all to ourselves."

"Sarah ... the first honeymoon."

"Oh. Well ... like Chuck said it was a wonderful Swiss holiday."

"So why don't you want to talk about it?" Carina narrows her eyes at Chuck.

Sarah looks at Chuck. He tilts his head with a half shrug and a small smile. Sarah thinks it over a beat longer and decides to tell Carina, "Because I don't remember it." She looks deflated. Chuck puts his hand on her shoulder.

Her friend knits her eyebrows. "What do you mean you don't remember it? … Ooo, Chuck, that must really sting." Carina's eyes dance with mischief.

Chuck and Sarah aren't laughing.

"Look, it's a long story. I'll tell you more in two days, but the short version is that I experienced some … head trauma and forgot some things."

Carina's look turns more sympathetic. "Okay. I'll see you in a couple of days. Meanwhile, have fun."

The flat screen goes blank, and Chuck and Sarah are alone again.

They weigh anchor and leave their honeymoon paradise. Chuck sets their course for St Vincent. He is completely tapped into the navigation system on his phone and tablet, so they can command the vessel from any place on the yacht. For now they sit on the top deck.

"Chuck, there's one thing I'm still trying to figure out. If the yacht isn't bugged, how is Ned keeping track of us? I know he counts on the naivety of his marks, but there's no way he'd be so cavalier as to let half a billion in cocaine float around the Caribbean unmonitored."

"No. No, he wouldn't. Maybe he tracks the yacht by GPS, or he may have informants or lookouts along the way, but how he could predict where to put them I don't know."

Sarah sips her sparkling water and looks out at the ocean. With a start, she sits up and puts her glass on the table. "Maybe ..."

"Maybe what?"

"The tourist packet. The one that was on the table, with the welcome bottle of wine."

"What about it?"

Sarah retrieves the packet from the drawer where she tossed it and puts it on the table in front of Chuck. She puts a hand on his shoulder and looks over his other shoulder. "Look, it has gift certificates for places throughout the islands." She spreads them out with her free hand. "Some complimentary dinners for two; lots of buy-one-get-one-free; complimentary bottles of wine; free desserts; two-for-one activities."

"Sarah, it's brilliant. He doesn't have to predict where couples go. He shows them where to go."

"Exactly."

"And they all have these postage-stamp-size adhesive QR codes." Chuck whips out his phone and uses the bar code reader app. "Look. 'Dinner for 2 - Bartowski. Check ID - NR633762' He doesn't have to pay informants or even ask people to keep a look out."

"Because when they scan our QR code, it's the digital version of sending up a flare."

He cranes his neck to look at her. "Ooo, Sarah, you are so sexy when you talk nerd."

She nibbles his ear and whispers, "Just when I talk nerd?"

"No," he squeaks.

"Good." She sits at the table.

"Sarah, he probably even owns some of these places."

"Well, he could certainly afford it. Then he could easily monitor their security cams."

"Yep, and he could set up harbor surveillance in these places."

"That would allow him to monitor the yacht's displacement, which would change noticeably if it were suddenly four tons lighter."

"Maybe he's not the befuddled charmer he wants us to think he is."

"Nope. He's a gangster, a drug smuggler, and a pretty savvy con man."

Chuck looks at her with a mischievous grin. "And he picked the wrong couple to con, right, Honey?"

"That's right." She returns his grin. "So, lets pick out our freebies and plan where we want to be seen."

"Which ones do we pick."

"Well, assuming we're right, he sets up surveillance in ideal spots and gives his drug mules a reason to go to those spots. Places with the best deals, like free dinners for two, will have the best surveillance. So we find the best deals and go where he most wants us to go. It's our job to put him at ease about his shipment."

Chuck spreads them out on the table and picks one up. "I think I found the first one. It's the first one we'd come to, and it offers free dinner, drinks, and dessert for two in Wallilabou Bay ..."—Chuck's grin is priceless—"Where they filmed Pirates of the Caribbean."

Sarah inwardly smiles at his enthusiasm. "Then that's where he'll expect us to go."

Chuck plots a new course for Wallilabou Bay on the leeward side of St Vincent Island.

—^v^—

As they approach the bay, Sarah surveys the area with binoculars, checking for surveillance cameras. "There are lots of cameras, Chuck, on the buildings, the docks, the pirate ships."

They tie up at a mooring in full view of one of the cameras and prepare the dinghy to go ashore. Chuck pulls out his pirate hat.

Sarah laughs. "You actually brought your pirate hat?"

"Yeeeah." He nods looking a little sheepish. "I didn't know we'd be here. I just brought it for fun. After all,"—he waggles his eyebrows—"the last time I wore it, you pinned me against the kitchen counter and did unspeakable things to me. Aarrrggh."

She can't help smile with him … and remember the unspeakable things.

"And like you said, it will come in handy, blending in with the other pirates." He nods toward the shore, where a variety of pirate hats bob down the main street.

As advertised the entire set from Pirates of the Caribbean is preserved. It's like walking through early 18th century Port Royal. Chuck and Sarah stroll hand in hand: enjoying the day, admiring the sets, watching the people.

They stop and turn in the direction of a child's voice, "Ohh, whoa, whoooooah." They see a young blonde boy, arms and legs wrapped around the muzzle end of a cannon, trying to look into the chamber. In slow motion he goes from the top side of the barrel to the bottom side and ends up dangling over the ocean, arms and legs still wrapped around the barrel. In three strides Chuck reaches the cannon, straddles the barrel, grabs the boy's belt, and rotates him to the top side of the barrel. "You okay there, little buddy?"

Sarah watches from the a palm tree. Once she sees that Chuck reached the boy and that neither went for an unscheduled swim, she relaxes and leans against the tree.

"Yes," a small, tremulous voice replies.

"Good." Chuck scoots him back down the barrel. "What's you're name?"

"Liam."

Chuck airlifts Liam, sound effects and all, back to safety and kneels down eye level with him. His blue eyes are brimming with tears that he wills not to fall. Chuck cups his small shoulders and reassures him. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay. You did great, Liam. You hung on really tight. … Show me your muscle."

Sarah watches her husband with open adoration.

Liam flexes his right arm, and Chuck feels his muscle. "I knew it. See, you are really strong."

Liam smiles. "I can beat Nathan in arm wrestling."

Chuck smiles and ruffles his hair. About that time Sarah comes over. "Hi."

Liam looks up at Sarah and then tells Chuck in a conspiratorial voice, "She's really pretty."

Chuck winks at Sarah and then says to Liam in the same tone, "I know, right?"

The two boys nod over their big secret. "Liam, I'm Chuck, and this is my wife Sarah."

Sarah puts her sunglasses on her head and squats down. "Hi, Liam. Would you like this smoothie? We haven't touched it yet. It's banana/orange/pineapple."

His blue eyes shine as he reaches for the smoothie.

The three of them sit down by the palm tree, Chuck and Sarah sharing one smoothie and Liam happily slurping the other. Sarah smiles at the little boy. "So, Liam, are you here with your family?"

He nods.

Chuck continues, "Is this the last place you were all together? Here by the cannons?"

"Yes. They wanted to leave, and I wanted to see how it works."

"Ohhh. It is so cool." Chuck reaches in his back pocket and pulls out an extra straw. "Here's how it works." He wads the wrapper and stuffs it into the end of the straw for Liam to see. Then he hands the straw to Liam. "Now take a deep breath, aim it at my chest, and blow." Liam shoots Chuck in the chest and laughs.

Then Chuck takes the straw and explains the whole combustive/projectile process. He loads the makeshift cannon with a tiny bit of sand for gun powder and a paper cannon ball. He pretend lights a fake fuse and makes a big boom noise. Then he blows the paper ball out of the straw cannon, smacking Liam in the tummy. Liam and Sarah are both spellbound with Chuck's demonstration: Liam with the vivid new information and Sarah with Chuck and how easily he connects with this little boy.

About that time, Liam's parents rush up to Chuck and Sarah, their panic melting to relief. "Liam, where have you been. We've been looking all over for you."

"I wanted to see how the cannon works and I almost fell in the ocean but Mr Chuck saved me and Ms Sarah gave me a smoothie," Liam explains all in one breath.

They turn to Chuck and Sarah. "We can't thank you enough. He's always lagging behind. He's so inquisitive."

"No problem."

Liam yanks on Chuck's pant leg. "What's quisitive?"

Chuck smiles and tells him, "It means you're special, Liam, and really smart."

Liam beams at his parents. He wants a picture with Chuck and Sarah, who happily oblige. Chuck kneels down and puts his pirate hat on Liam's head, "Don't ever stop being inquisitive, Liam. Just try to keep better track of your parents," he lowers his voice, "They seem to have trouble getting lost." Liam gives Chuck a solemn nod. "Okay." He holds up his little fist, which Chuck bumps with his big fist. Then Liam walks off with his parents. Suddenly he runs back, and wraps his arms around Sarah's legs. "Thanks for the smoothie, Ms Sarah."

Sarah smiles and toussles his hair. "You're welcome, Liam."

Chuck and Sarah continue their stroll, her arm around his waist and his around her shoulders. "You were really good with him, Chuck."

He smiles at her. "So were you." He squeezes her shoulder. "Never underestimate the power of a smoothie. I mean you got a hug, and I only got a fist bump."

She laughs. "I think that's only because a fist bump is more manly. Aarrrggh."

After walking around the town and seeing all the props from Pirates of the Caribbean, Chuck and Sarah go to the restaurant to register their location for Ned, and of course to collect on their complimentary dinner. They hand the gift certificate to the hostess who scans it and asks for ID. Chuck hands her his passport. "Do you get a lot of gift certificates? That's a pretty neat system you have there, with the QR codes."

"Yes, we do get a lot, and the QR system is a fast way of keeping track of who to bill for their generosity. The owners came up with the idea. Ned, one of the owners, is particularly generous."

"Yes, Ned seems very generous." Sarah says.

After a fantastic dinner of surf and turf for two, a bottle of champagne, and chocolate covered strawberries for dessert, Chuck and Sarah go back to their yacht.

Sarah lies in bed, thinking over the day. More accurately, thinking about the man spooned behind her. Watching him with Liam loosed something in her heart.

_~^~^~  
>"You ready to say good-bye to all of it: the guns, the bullets, the hard core?<em>

_"I don't want to live my life in danger any more. I'm ready to retire and start a family. Our future is exciting enough."_

_"Starting a family isn't something you can just, you know, jump right into."_

_"Yeah, no, we need some practice."  
>~^~^~<em>

Sarah smiles at the memory and drifts off to sleep … _lots and lots of practice._

—^v^—

**Friday Noon - Rodney Bay - St Lucia**

Having texted Carina instructions where to meet, Chuck and Sarah drop anchor in Rodney Bay and go to another restaurant where they have a generous gift certificate compliments, of the mafia. They present their gift certificate and resist the urge to smile at the security camera. The hostess informs them that Sarah's cousin and aunt and uncle have already arrived. She leads them to a large round table with a view of the bay, where Carina, Beckman, and Roan are waiting. Roan had apparently charmed the hostess out of the best table in the house.

It's an odd group for small talk, but they limit their conversation to typical lunch chit-chat, just in case anyone is listening. Roan manages to keep everyone entertained, talking about his extensive travels, and Chuck and Sarah talk a little about the beauty of a Caribbean honeymoon. After their expensive lunch, they all leave the restaurant, with Chuck and Sarah insisting that Carina, Aunt Diane and Uncle Roan spend the afternoon on the yacht with them.

Chuck and Sarah give them the grand tour of the yacht and end up around the table in the main living area. Sarah offers everyone tropical fruit juices, with their additive of choice. Everyone goes for pure juice, except for Roan, who brought his own additive.

Beckman gets down to business. "Agent Montgomery and I rented a nice, high-speed cabin cruiser, which, by the way, Roberts Marina had in abundance."

"Diane was clumsy enough to spill the contents of her purse all over the floor."

"And that nice man Ned was accommodating enough to help me scoop them up."

Roan raises his glass. "She's still got it."

Beckman quirks her eyebrow at him. "From the contents of my purse we lifted a full set of fingerprints matching the prints you found, Chuck. Those of Tony Colombo."

"Well done, Aunt Diane." Chuck smiles.

"Don't push it, Agent Bartowski." Beckman deadpans.

"Retired. Agent Bartowski." Chuck gives Beckman an innocent smile. Sarah quirks her lips at the banter between them.

"So, have you two _retired_ agents come up with a plan?"

"Yes, General." Chuck shows the 3D images of the boat on the flat screen.

"Very impressive, Charles," Roan raises his glass.

Chuck gives a nod to Roan and addresses Beckman, "First, General, we need you to document the evidence, so we can clean it up and put everything back like it was. We've thought of several different scenarios, but this is the one we like the best." Chuck looks at Sarah.

"Or at least it's the one that catches the most bad guys." Sarah picks up Chuck's train of thought.

"Even though it's a little riskier."

"Carina and I will dust all the bundles of cocaine with an ultraviolet permanent dye, that contains a unique chemical signature, so anyone who touches the packets can be linked by physical evidence to this particular shipment of cocaine."

"While they do that, I'll set up surveillance throughout the yacht."

"Then we let everything play out on schedule. Let the drug runners board the boat and take the drugs."

Beckman follows. "Yes, and since the yacht is rigged to explode, they probably just plan to tie you up."

Chuck looks at Carina. "However, Carina will be here out of sight, just in case we need backup."

"And to slip into the water and place bugs and a tracker on their boat," Sarah continues.

"That way, General, you can follow the drugs."

"And we will return our yacht, four tons lighter, to Ned and watch his reaction." Sarah finishes with a look of triumph.

Beckman mulls it over. "It's simple, straight forward. We already know who all the players are in the Colombo operation, and if we follow the boat, we find out all the players for the North Valley operation. As for risk, it's relatively low. They will be confident, unlikely to suspect anything."

"That was our thinking," Sarah says. "We have enough fingerprint evidence to incriminate Rick Mitchell and Elyas Montoya. You track the boat and the drugs to the new distributor, which leaves us to trap Ned."

"It's a good plan, Bartowskis. Let's get to work."

Roan raises his glass to the team. "Bonne chance." With that he takes his high octane juice up the circular stair to the top deck, leaving everyone else to do the heavy lifting.

After Beckman documents everything to her satisfaction, she and Roan bid everyone farewell and take off in their cabin cruiser.

Sarah looks at Chuck. "Do you think there's any hope for them?"

They look at each other. "Naaahh." They shake their heads and chuckle.

"Okay, you two love birds, we have work to do."

Carina and Sarah complete their task in short order, and go up to the top deck, leaving Chuck knee deep in his surveillance project.

"Okay, Sarah. Tell me what happened."

Sarah gives Carina a somber look and then looks away.

"You can start by telling me about the head trauma."

"Well, even that is a pretty long story, which I still don't really remember. Most of it I couldn't tell you anyway, because it involves a top secret project and highly classified technology."

"Sarah, I have top secret security clearance."

"Sorry Carina, unless you're the President or Beckman, you don't have clearance for this."

"And this relates to your assignment over the last five years?"

Sarah nods. "The salient part of the story is that a rogue, psycho former CIA agent used a corrupt version of this classified technology to wipe my memories, specifically the last five years of my life and any memory of Chuck."

Carina gapes at her. "You can't be serious. That is total sci-fi BS, right."

"I'm afraid not. Quinn then fed me a line of bull about Chuck being a rogue assassin who killed Graham and Bryce. He ordered me to steal the uncorrupted copy of the technology from Chuck and then kill him."

"Which you obviously didn't do."

"The former, yes. The latter, no. Thank God! There are so many horrific scenarios for how all of this could have ended."

"So, what happened."

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. Something kept me from pulling the trigger."

Carina nods.

Sarah tells her the rest of the story: Chuck's impassioned story in the house; how he dove in front of Quinn's bullet; her video logs; and how she went after Quinn and came back to Chuck. Carina smirks at that. She recounts the mission in Germany and the Pacific Concert Hall, minus the part about the Intersect. Sarah's expression goes soft as she tells Carina how Chuck found her and loved her and helped her get her life back. She tells her about the nightmares and that she has recovered some important memories but still has more gaps than memories. "It seems weird, right, that I have this amazing love for him, even though there's so much I don't remember."

Carina takes it all in and smiles at her friend. "Nah. Not to me it doesn't. I've watched you with him from the beginning. You fell for him from the start, Sarah. If you fell in love with him before you really knew him, why couldn't you stll love him before you really remember him? Why would that kind of connection depend on cumulative memories?

"I mean, obviously there would be tremendous challenges, and it's a mind-numbing story, but it looks like you two are doing pretty well. For all the grief I give him, Chuck's a pretty fantastic guy."

Sarah looks up with a shy smile. "Yes, he is."

"And you two are as disgusting as ever … in a good way, of course."

"Oh, thaanks."

"Anytime. Now, did you mention scuba equipment."

"Yeah. You wanna go?"

"Absolutely. Tell Chuck to take a break, and let's go."

—^v^—

The mission is a go. The yacht is prepared. All that's left is to enjoy the next five days of their honeymoon and take advantage of the generosity of their host.

Over the next five days they putt in appearances for Ned, diving in the champagne waters off Dominica, walking the black sand beaches of Montserrat, and zip-lining through the rain forest on St Kitts. They spend their evenings watching movies or playing board games. Somehow, they never manage to finish either one.

The tranquil hours at sea replace their traditional evening story times. Sarah's request is to know everything about the Intersect, which effectively takes up all their travel hours. Pulling on the Intersect thread ultimately unravels everything about everything: the Bartowski family history, Chuck's brain, and how many Intersects he has uploaded; Hartley Winterbottom, Stephen's thirty-year obsession, and why Mary went undercover and disappeared. Volkoff as both nemesis and benefactor, why Sarah went undercover, and defeating Volkoff. Vivian Volkoff, the Norseman, and the whole story of how Chuck finally got the antidote. It all leads to the last chapter of the story, the corrupt version of the Intersect: Morgan uploading it, Quinn wanting it, then Sarah uploading it and being kidnapped by Quinn.

Chuck takes his time telling the stories. Sarah asks a ton of questions and jumps in to tell the parts she remembers. Finally they work their way through the whole Intersect story. "So that's all of it, Sarah, and after telling you all that, I realize how absolutely crazy it sounds. I mean, seriously, who would ever believe it?"

Sarah stares out at the ocean.

"And by now you're probably wondering how you managed to get dragged into all of this, when you could have had a nice, peaceful, straight-forward spy life of terrorists and despots and oligarchs." His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

She laughs and looks at him. "After our story, terrorists and despots and oligarchs sound just plain boring." She holds his gaze. "Actually, I was wondering how I managed to be lucky enough to be loved by Chuck Bartowski." A smile tugs at one corner of Chuck's lips. "I love you, Chuck."

Chuck pulls her into a tight hug. "I love you, too."

**Thursday, Late Afternoon, March 29th, St Barts**

Sarah finds Chuck at the aft rail staring at the ocean.

=—=—=  
>Wednesday, the day before, they had used their last gift certificate and put in their final appearance for Ned at the Eden Rock restaurant, part of a luxury resort costing upwards of $650 per night. Their dinner, apart from the mob's generosity, would have set them back $150, easy.<p>

Earlier this morning they moved the yacht to the coordinates supplied by Beckman, a more secluded anchorage with no surveillance. Then they spent the morning checking and double checking the yacht and going over the plan.  
>=—=—=<p>

Sarah feels his unease. She stands next to him at the railing, looking at the horizon. He looks at her. "Sarah, I keep feeling like I'm missing something."

She reassures him, "We checked the cabins."

"Yes."

"You checked all the surveillance equipment and the feeds, the bugs and tracker for the other boat."

"I did."

"We have weapons hidden in convenient places, and we have several escape routes, including an underwater one."

"We do."

"Then come with me. It's time to forget about tomorrow for a while. I have a surprise for you." She pulls him to the dining table in the galley. Next to her iPad and a portfolio, there's a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket.

Chuck looks at the champagne. "Honey, it's a little early to celebrate, don't you think?"

"Nope"—she gives him a big smile—"Quinn was our one last mission, Chuck. And he didn't win. You—we—didn't let him. So, I think this celebration is overdue."

"But we still have to survive tomorrow."

"Tomorrow ... this ... what we're in the middle of right now, has nothing to do with our spy life. It's just a big mess that any normal honeymoon couple could have fallen into. But"—she catches his eye—"no other normal honeymoon couple would be able to get out of it."

"Yeah."

"So. One celebration at a time, Chuck. Are you in?"

"With you, Sarah. Always."

"I found all of this in my locker in Castle, the afternoon Ellie did my tests, and I've been studying them. I wish I remembered everything, but from a few memories, the prospectus, the drawings, and my notes, I've figured out that these were my Carmichael Industries plans that I was going to show you. And …" Sarah looks down, suddenly ... nervous. Chuck rests his hands on her shoulders, and she raises her eyes to his. "And I want to show them to you now."

"Sarah." He wraps her in a hug.

They sit at the table and drink a toast to celebrate their future, the fact that they even have a future. "Ready?" Sarah shows him the prospectus, her drawings, and the photos on her iPad of possible office spaces, all of which have lots of windows. "I had even scheduled appointments to see some of these places."

He studies everything with complete awe. "Sarah, this is fantastic: the plan, the drawings, the spaces. I can't believe you did all this."

She smiles. "You like it?"

"Honey ... I love it."

She feels happy all the way to her toes, and it shows in her smile.

"Your idea of a working relationship with Verbanski Corp is brilliant. There will be times we will need their assault and tactical skills, especially since we want to get out of the guns and bullets side of the business. And they may occasionally need our expertise. You know, Casey already suggested selling them some of our armory."

"So, when we get back we can go through our inventory and decide what to keep and what to sell. Maybe reschedule to see some of these office spaces."

"Yep. You'll know best what kind of spy/weapon gear we need to keep, and I'll assess the technology side things, but I'd say we're pretty good to step right into your business plan and move into a new space ... with lots of natural light." They are both grinning from ear to ear.

Sarah continues. "Which leaves us with the question of what to do with the old spy base … Castle."

"I'm not sure we can do anything with it. I mean, who wants underground, bunker-style office space?"

"Well, I've been thinking about that, too. There are underground gallerias and arcades and restaurants."

"Yeah."

"So, maybe a restaurant … Carmichael's … with a spy motif."

Chuck grins. "Carmichael's Spy Café."

"The Orange Orange is empty. We could use it as the entrance."

"It was actually part of the Buymore package, but we never did anything with it. It could be a coffee shop as well as the entrance to the restaurant."

"Morgan and Alex could be in charge of the project, since he's the culinary genius. I mean I know he's part of our team, but he could hire a good manager, so he wouldn't have to be there all the time. That is if you think he would want to."

"I think he'd love the idea: getting out of the Buymore, owning his own business, doing something he loves, and having a source of income for him and Alex. As well as the freedom to be a spy with us as much as wants."

They spend the eve of their mission devouring leftovers and brainstorming about their future, specifically Carmichael Industries and Carmichael's Spy Café.

Later, Sarah lies next to Chuck, staring up at the starry sky, lulled by the gentle rocking of the sea, and lost in thought. Little more than two weeks ago, her future was a yawning void of uncertainty. Now, it is neither empty nor uncertain. Like the night sky, it's a little mysterious, but it has form and beauty and endless possibilities for adventure and happiness. With a blissful sigh, she wriggles closer to her husband and drifts off to sleep.

**Friday Morning**

Sunlight banishes the stars and streams in through the sky light, invading their pleasant dreams and pulling them back into their current nightmare.

At 8:00, Beckman, Roan, and Carina board the yacht. Over breakfast, they review the plans one more time. "I removed the program that Montoya planted, then programmed our system to mimic his, so externally our yacht will do exactly what they expect it to do. If they ping our system, we'll appear dead in the water, as they expect, but we will actually be very much alive and in control.

"Excellent work."

Chuck hands Beckman a tablet. "You can quarterback from a safe distance, I recommend holding a position seven miles east of us. You have full access to the security feeds and can communicate through our ear pieces."

"Okay, team. Good luck."

—^v^—

At the programmed location, the yacht begins to slow down, and the radar tells them that the other boat is five miles away and rapidly closing in on their position.

Sarah gives Chuck a look of confidence. "Show time."

Carina slips into the water between the hulls, where there's a screen for her to monitor the operation, as well as the scuba gear and an underwater sea scooter, so she can put the tracker on the other boat.

The blast of a fog horn announces the arrival of a boat, which circles their yacht. A booming authoritative voice with a Boston accent commands them to cut their engines.

Chuck cuts the engines using the app on his phone, then pockets his phone. He casts a quizzical look at Sarah. "Not exactly the drug runner type I was expecting."

"Prepare to be boarded by agents of the United States Drug Enforcement Administration," the voice continues.

Chuck and Sarah look at each other, eyebrows raised. "Sarah, what the ..."

"I thought Beckman kept a tight lid on this."

"General, did you hear that?"

"Yes, I'm listening, Chuck, and watching. I did not inform the DEA."

"Neither did I," Carina's voice comes through their coms.

Two men burst into the galley, glocks drawn. "DEA. Hands in the air."

Chuck and Sarah raise their hands.

A third man enters on their heels.

Chuck focuses on each of the three men. He looks at Sarah, and his eyes widen.

Her eyes and the tilt of her head ask _did you flash_. His imperceptible nod says _yes_.

The third man, average height, with blond hair and a handlebar mustache pulls his gun and holds it on Chuck and Sarah and addresses the tall skinny man, "Jeff, go below and check the cargo." Then he addresses the other man, "Ryan, frisk them."

Ryan leers at Sarah and walks up to her roaming her body with his eyes. Chuck puts a hand on his shoulder. "Is this really necessary? We don't have guns. We're on our honeymoon." Ryan turns on Chuck and draws his left fist back in one smooth motion. Sarah winces as Ryan swings. Chuck pivots left and leans back, dodging the blow. Ryan's fist connects with the cabinet. Chuck cringes. "Oh, ow, ouch. Do you want some ice for that?"

"Shut up." Ryan draws his gun and aims it at Chuck's head. Chuck and Sarah are both watching, coiled, and ready to move. "And watch while I frisk your wife." He holsters his gun.

Ryan keeps his eyes on Chuck and wears an oily smile as he runs his hands down her back, under her arms and down her sides. Sarah can feel the energy rolling off of Chuck in waves. She catches his eye and shakes her head slightly. Ryan moves his hands around her waist, and the third man calls out a warning, "Ryan! Stop fooling around, and get on with it."

Ryan moves his hands down her back below her waist and begins to squeeze. Sarah decides she has had enough. In one move, she has Ryan's arm behind his back and his hand bent back at the wrist, both in painfully unnatural positions. "Agghhhh. I'm just doing my job."

Sarah applies one last surge of pressure on his shoulder and shoves him away, then says with more menace than she intended, "What you're doing constitutes sexual assault in thirty-nine states. We're. Not. Armed." She changes her tone and smiles sweetly, "We're on our honeymoon."

Ryan rubs his shoulder and walks away. Then he pulls his gun and turns. Chuck begins to move. "No woman does that to me!" Ryan raises his gun and points it at Sarah. In one fluid motion, Chuck slides in front of his wife and reaches behind him, wrapping his arms around her, holding her against his back. As Ryan squeezes the trigger, Chuck flexes his knees, pivots, and leans backward. Sarah holds him tight and moves with him, planting her right foot behind her for balance. The bullet embeds in the wall behind them.

Beckman and Carina both gasp.

As if on cue, a fourth DEA agent strides in. He's tall and well muscled with a shaved head and a dark beard with no mustache. "Enough. Stand down." _Mr Boston._ He looks at Chuck and Sarah, a look of shock flashing across his features. He speaks in a low voice to the third man. "Dillon, it's a different couple."

"So what. That doesn't change anything."

"You know very well what it changes. Tie them up."

Jeff brings up a sample of the cargo. "Looks like it's all there."

Dillon walks toward Chuck and Sarah, still holding his gun on them.

Beckman's voice comes through their ear pieces, "Maintain your cover."

Chuck spreads his arms out and gives a nervous laugh. "Look, Dillon ... Mr ... Agent Dillon, sir. We just rented this yacht for our honeymoon. We had no idea that was down there. I don't even know what that, that is. This is just a big misunderstanding. So, you don't have to arrest us."

Dillon pulls out handcuff and nods to the back of the boat, still holding his gun on them. "Who said anything about arresting you?"

Chuck and Sarah exchange a knowing look. Chuck continues, "Oh. Wow. That's a relief. Oh, I was really worried there for a minute. Weren't you, Honey?"

"I was." Sarah looks at Dillon with innocent eyes. "So, you're just going to confiscate the drugs and let us go?"

Dillon handcuffs Chuck to the center poll of the circular stair that goes to the upper deck. "Something like that."

"Will you need us to testify in court or anything?" Sarah asks.

Dillon cuffs Sarah to the poll. "No, Sweetheart. The drugs are our retirement plan, so we need you not to testify."

Sarah and Chuck sit on a step and watch the four DEA agents haul the cocaine out in open plastic crates.

Carina's voice comes over the coms. "The bugs and tracker are in place."

After the DEA boat is out of view, Sarah pulls a lock pick from the waist band of her shorts and picks the locks on the handcuffs. They go inside, and Carina climbs out of the water and joins them. While they sit and wait for Beckman to show up, Chuck gets everybody something cold to drink.

"Chuck, Sarah," Beckman's voice is urgent. "I've picked up something from the bugs Carina planted. There's a backup bomb. You have less than seven minutes before it goes off."

Chuck looks at Sarah. "I knew I was missing something."

Sarah eyes her cold drink. "Chuck, the refrigerator. Montoya's other prints."

Chuck goes to the refrigerator and puts his hands where Montoya's had been: up high on both sides. He pulls the refrigerator out, unplugs it and searches the back. "Got it." The drip pan at the bottom of the refrigerator is packed with C-4, and there's a timer completely embedded in the plastique … 4:59 … 4:58 … 4:57. Chuck removes the drip pan. "Sarah, the dinghy ... go-go-go-go-go. Carina, start our engines. General, hold your position until after the explosion."

Sarah runs for the dinghy and cranks it into the water. Chuck puts the bomb in the dinghy. "Okay, Sarah, lash the wheel and let her rip." She leans over the dinghy, ties the wheel in place so it will maintain a straight course, and pushes the throttle all the way forward. The dinghy takes off, unmanned, heading north, away from the back of the yacht.

Then Carina sets their course south, full throttle.

They stand on the aft deck, watching the distance widen between the dinghy and the yacht. Chuck looks at his phone. "Three … two … one … and" A giant fireball mushrooms into the sky and scatters the dinghy's burning fragments across a wide area of ocean.

Sarah watches as the ocean extinguishes the flames of burning debris. "Well, it's not the giant explosion they were expecting, but lets hope it convinces them that their mission was a success."

"Beckman, we're all clear. We'll see you in a few."

Beckman's yacht weaves through the debris and reaches the _Princess Bride._ She surveys the yacht and looks at each of them. "Good work, so far, team. Agent Miller and I will pursue the drugs. Thanks to your plan, we have enough evidence to drastically alter the DEA agents' ... retirement plans." Beckman almost smiles. "The execution was good, though not without a couple of hairy moments." Beckman cocks an eyebrow in Chuck's direction.

"Yeah, Chuckie. Nice footwork. I'm impressed."

Chuck and Sarah exchange a look, and Chuck gives Beckman a half smile.

"We'll see you both at Ned's marina in Honda Harbor tomorrow evening."

**Roberts Marina – Honda Harbor – Culebra Island, Puerto Rico - Saturday March 31st**

Chuck and Sarah dock their yacht at Roberts Marina in the late afternoon. Chuck gives Sarah his hand as she steps onto the dock. "Are you ready?"

"You bet I am."

"Good. Let's go get Ned Pirate Roberts."

Sarah gives him a big smile. _Ned Pirate Roberts?_

They find the office and ring the bell on the counter. A young woman greets them with a smile. Chuck introduces himself with his most charming smile. "Hi. I'm Charles Bartowski. My wife and I are returning our honeymoon yacht." Sarah smiles and takes Chuck's hand.

"And, I'm Rita. Ned is expecting you. You are his invited guests at the Double H Yacht Club, about two miles farther in. It's well marked and has a large dock. You can't miss it. You'll want to clean up first. Then when you're ready, here are the keys to a cruiser you can use to get there."

Sarah gives her a cordial smile. "That sounds lovely. Thank you, Rita." She turns to Chuck. "Come on, Honey. Let's go clean up." It's all they can do to keep a straight face.

—^v^—

They tie the cruiser to a cleat on the dock and walk to the HH Yacht Club, looking every bit the yacht set. Chuck is wearing a cream colored suit, light blue shirt and cream colored tie. Sarah's v-neck dress matches the blue of his shirt with a cream colored sash and shoes.

The doorman is expecting them. He leads them to the dining area and points them in Ned's direction.

Sarah elbows Chuck. "Ned cleans up nicely, doesn't he."

"Yeah. White pants, blue shirt, navy blazer. And look, he has a hanky in his pocket that matches his tie."

"All expensive threads, and $300 Italian shoes."

"He even cut and tamed the mane. I'm thinking George Clooney for the movie."

Sarah nods and stifles a chuckle. "Definitely."

Ned motions them over. "Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski. Join me for a drink. How was the honeymoon? I hope the yacht didn't give you any trouble."

_Trouble doesn't begin to describe it._

"Oh, it was perfect. What a fantastic yacht, right Honey?" Chuck puts his arm around Sarah's shoulder.

"Absolutely, and all those gift certificates. We could never thank you enough."

"Oh, you're welcome, but it isn't over, because I've reserved you a table by the window. Order anything from the menu, as my guests. It will give you a pleasant way to pass the time, while I check in the yacht."

"We'll be right here." Chuck salutes him as he turns and walks away.

"Sarah, everything is ready, right?"

"Of course. We left the yacht in impressively immaculate condition, fixed the bullet hole, put air mattresses where he expects the cocaine to be, and dusted the zipper pulls and the air beds with the same invisible, ultraviolet powder."

"All of the surveillance is set up and activated."

"Then let's order a nice dinner."

"You know, Sarah, I'm going to miss Ned's gift certificates."

She chuckles and picks up her menu. "Me, too."

He orders Lobster. She orders Fillet Mignon, medium-rare. They sit on the same side of the table savoring their dinner, while watching the surveillance on Chuck's phone. "There he goes, Sarah. He's headed right for the drugs." Ned pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door.

"I still think we should've changed the locks."

Chuck almost chokes from laughing and drinking at the same time. "Sarah, that would just be mean. Okay, watch."

Ned opens the door, throws off the bed spread, and unzips the mattress cover. He runs his hand through his hair and paces back and forth. Chuck winces. "Oh, no. Ow. Fist through the wall. There's a lot of that going around." Chuck smirks.

"Oh, there he goes with the knife. So much for that air bed. The way it popped, he'll have the dye all over him."

Ned's actions becomes more desperate and entertaining with each cabin. "Look, the poor man is really frazzled, Sarah."

"Yeah, but now, Chuck, he's beyond frazzled. He's really angry."

Twenty minutes later, here comes Ned. His demeanor is somewhat less affable than earlier. He strides to their table and sits down across from them. To everyone else he is the picture of composure. Sarah knows better. She notices his red ears and the throbbing pulse at his temple. The arteries in his neck bulge and a vein stands out on his forehead. She pushes a plate in front of him. "We ordered you the shrimp cocktail. It is really good." She gives him a calm smile.

"Is everything in order?" Chuck's expression is friendly. His voice is calm, but Sarah hears an undertone of tempered steel. It gives her goose bumps.

"Actually everything is not in order." His eyes harden. "But you know that."

"What seems to be the problem?" Chuck's demeanor remains the same. _Who knew Chuck could be so … alpha?_

"You know damn well what the problem is. I expect you to get my … shipment back … or pay me the street value for my loss. Or I can see to it that you and your wife take a long walk off a short pier, as they say."

"Or. … Or. How about we turn you in for narcotics trafficking … Tony."

The color drains from Ned's face. "I don't know what you're talking about. You have no proof. It would be my word against yours."

"You have a point."—He turns to Sarah.—"He has a point, doesn't he, Honey?"

"He does. Can I borrow your phone, Sweetheart?"

"Sure, Baby."

She holds the phone facing Ned. "As reliable as Chuck's testimony is in court, we always like to have backup." She presses play. Tony turns so pale a mama polar bear might adopt him. Sarah stops the video. "The jury might wonder what you were looking for, Tony, but you were kind enough to tell them when you ranted about your stolen cocaine."

Sarah sees a red dot on the window. She dives to the floor, taking Chuck with her, simultaneously kicking the table into Tony with enough force that it throws him backwards to the floor. "Everybody down!" A split second later a spray of bullets shatters the window and the wine rack above the bar, showering the restaurant in a hail of broken glass and exploding wine bottles.

Sirens blare, and the shooting stops. Red and blue lights flash into the room, and Tony starts to make a run for it. Sarah flings her knife and pins the sleeve of his navy blazer to a column. "Chuck, are you okay? You're bleeding."

"So are you." He takes his handkerchief and blots a gash on her forehead. "You were awesome, by the way."

"You weren't so bad yourself." She kisses him a little longer than she planned.

By now, all their fellow diners are riveted to the scene.

The kiss is interrupted by a cough. They open their eyes and see a very tiny high-heeled foot, connected to a very tiny high ranking general, with a raised eyebrow and red hair.

Rising immediately, Chuck uses his handkerchief to brush some of the glass off of them. "Good evening, General."

"Chuck, Sarah, aren't you going to introduce us."

"Of course." He picks a piece of glass out of his hand. "Ned ... or Tony. Which do you prefer? Perhaps you remember our Aunt Diane. She's really our former boss, General Beckman of the NSA and current Director of National Intelligence."

Sarah holds her hand out to Carina. "And my cousin is my friend. We used to work together on an interagency, clandestine assault team. I'm retired, but she's a special agent with the DEA."

About that time Roan walks in, all style and elegance. Chuck puts his hand on Roan's shoulder. "And maybe you remember our Uncle Roan. He's CIA"—Chuck appraises Roan—"a mentor, with a very specific expertise. Like my wife told you, we're retired. From the CIA."

Tony/Ned looks out the window at the handcuffed man being pushed into a dark SUV with red and blue lights in the grill. Then he looks at all of them. "Just take me some place safe."

"I have your travel plans and accommodations all arranged, Mr Colombo." Beckman motions to four soldiers who escort Tony Colombo, . Ned Roberts, from the club and transport him to a secure government facility.

Beckman waves to the Maitre D. "I'll have your restaurant cleaned up by tomorrow morning. You'll never know there was a problem. … Now if you will just give me and my friends a private dining room for the evening, I would appreciate it." The trembling man seems only too happy to lead the tiny titian general and her guests to an elegant, private dining area with a lovely view of the harbor.

Over dinner, Beckman fills them in. "We followed the boat to a marina on the other side of Puerto Rico and filmed the off loading of the drugs. Carina followed the shipment to a nearby airfield where the buyer was waiting. After dispatching the DEA agents to their new retirement facility, I went by helicopter to join the raid in progress at the airfield. Carina and her team confiscated the drugs and arrested everyone there, including the buyer. Rick and Sofia Mitchell have been taken into custody, as has Elias Montoya. All the other smaller players are being rounded up as we speak."

"Congratulations, General." Chuck raises his glass in a salute. Three other glasses follow suit.

"Thank you, Chuck, but the credit goes to you and Sarah. Your country thanks you. Again." She smiles and raises her glass in return. Roan and Carina also happily raise their glasses to their friends.

"So, who was the buyer, General?" Sarah asks.

It's a more complicated story than we thought." Beckman takes a sip of wine. "The buyer was another member of the Colombo family."

"An internal war?" Chuck asks.

"No. The _family_ set up a small business for two of its own children, Tony and Sofia. The _family_ recently found out that Sofia and Rick and Tony were skimming, and they didn't like it. They arranged for a new supplier and found some crooked DEA agents to grease the rails for their new operation. Their original Intel was that Rick and Sofia would be bringing the yacht up. It was supposed to be a hit, as well as a reorganization of the family business."

Chuck and Sarah look at each other, and Chuck swallows. "That's what the fourth DEA agent meant by 'different couple.' He basically saved us from execution, before the explosion would have cremated us and scattered our ashes."

"That's right, Chuck."

Sarah lays a hand on Chuck's leg under the table, and he visibly relaxes.

—^v^—

The five of them stroll along the dock toward Chuck and Sarah's cruiser.

Beckman stops them. "I almost forgot. I would have liked to pay you for your services, but I prefer to leave your names out of the paper work, so all I can give you is a small token, a memento."

"It's fine, General. We were happy to help out." Sarah says, meaning it.

"Just this once." Chuck adds, also meaning it.

She smiles and tosses them a key ring with the DNI seal.

Chuck catches it. "What's this?"

"It's the key to that yacht that sank in the Caribbean after being attacked by pirates."

"The dinghy?" Sarah asks.

"Who said anything about a dinghy. I specifically heard the drug runners say there was a backup bomb aboard the yacht, didn't you Roan?"

"I did, Darling."

Beckman raises her eyebrow at Roan but smiles in spite of herself. "And then there was a big explosion, and burning boat fragments littered the ocean for a two mile radius."

"Terrible accident." Roan shakes his head.

"Wha … " Chuck knits his brow.

Sarah elbows him and smiles. "Thank you, General. We will treasure this small keepsake of a wonderful honeymoon, at the expense of the mob."

"I thought you might." Beckman deadpans. "Oh, and Chuck?"

"Yes, General?"

"It's a good thing that the Intersect was destroyed with Quinn. It's the only thing that keeps the President off of my back about you two." Her eyes bore into his. "Just thought you'd like to know. Things would be more difficult for everyone, if there were ever any evidence to the contrary."

"Thank you, General. We're certainly glad to know." Sarah offers her hand. The general shakes it. She gives Chuck a warm two-handed handshake and a nod.

Roan gives them a two fingered salute and puts his arm around Diane's shoulders, as they walk away.

"Oh, Chuck," Beckman calls over her shoulder, "you might want to rename that memento."

Chuck and Sarah smile.

Carina looks at her friends with new admiration and understanding in her eyes. "I'm going to head out, too."

"It's been fun, Carina. And thank you." Sarah hugs her friend. "Come see us."

"It was fun working with you, Carina. Thanks for your help. Again," Chuck says kissing her cheek.

Carina smiles and waves her good-bye's before she hops on a jet-ski and takes off.

Sarah looks at Chuck. "Has she done that before?"

Chuck puts his arm around her. "Yes, she has. Let me tell you the story."

—^v^—

To celebrate their newly acquired yacht, _The Phoenix_, Chuck and Sarah decide to spend two more nights in a deserted bay, in an undisclosed location in the Caribbean.

They prop up in their king size bed, on the last night, looking at the stars. Sarah retrieves something from under her pillow, and unfolds the paper, looking at Chuck. His eyes go wide, and then he blinks back tears. She scoots closer to him. "I found this the first afternoon when you asked me to unpack your things." She kisses his cheek. "I remembered, Chuck. I told you what to draw so that you would know that the Intersect wasn't making me forget." He tightens his arm around her. "And when I remembered, I felt the love of that moment and the intimacy of sharing a dream with you."

"How about now, Sarah? You know I'll happily share any dream with you."

"I know. But our honeymoon made me realize some things ... besides how much I love you."—she gives him a shy smile—"I've had a chance to compare a dangerous life with you versus a normal life with you, because we've lived them both side by side these last two weeks.

"And?"

"And … we're great together as a spy team."

He gives her a knowing smile. "We are, aren't we?"

"Mm-hmm. And I used to thrive on that. I admit it's still a bit of a rush."

"Yeah. And it's rewarding doing good things."

"It is. But this time when we were in dangerous situations, the dread of what I might lose was stronger than the thrill of the moment. And the rest of the time ... well, being with you and doing normal things made me … happy."

"Really?" His smile lights the room.

"Mm-hmm. I was right on the train. I don't want the danger. I'm ready to retire. And watching you the other day with Liam,"—She picks up the drawing and traces the littlest figure.—"made me realize that I want this dream with you." A shy smile tugs at her lips and she searches his eyes.

He smiles and rests his hand at the back of her neck, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I love you, Sarah Bartowski."

The kiss is slow and filled with promise. "I think I still need lots of practice."

"Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah."

So, they practice the night away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Some of the mafia/cartel names and background and information are accurate, but Ned, Rick, Sofia, and Elyas are purely fictional. To my knowledge no such people exist. Well, Scarpa had a daughter, and the assassination attempt is true, but I don't know what her name is or anything about her.


	8. Grand Gift Auto

**~ Grand Gift Auto ~**

**The Day After the Honeymoon**

The fragrance of coffee pulls Sarah from the most bizarre dream about a hippy named Moon Meadow, a nudist colony, Hot Mama and Six Pack, and a stuffed polar bear for Casey. She burrows deeper into her pillow, clinging to sleep as long as she can. It's no use. Something feels wrong. She groans, still refusing to open her eyes. Everything is too ... wait a minute. It'll come to her … still. Nothing is moving. She opens one eye, disappointed not to see the skylight above their bed. And disappointed not to feel her husband beside her. _Where's Chuck? Oh, right. Coffee._ Sarah looks at the clock: 5:00 a.m. _Is he insane?_ Sarah crawls out of bed. _Is he okay?_ She steals her way to the kitchen in sleepy spy mode. _He looks okay._

She walks up behind him and puts her arms around him. "Why are you up so early?" She closes her eyes and settles her head against his back.

He turns enough to put an arm around her and pillow her head on his shoulder. "First of all, my body keeps telling me that it's 9:00 instead of 5:00. And second of all, the bed was too still."

She opens one sleepy eye and looks up at him. "Mm glad it's not just me. Did you make enough coffee for two?" The question ends in a yawn.

"Sarah. What kind of husband do you think I am?" he says with mock indignation.

"The best kind."

"That's right." He gives her a smug smile.

"Especially, since you made me coffee." She ducks under his arm to grab a cup.

They sit on the couch, slowly waking up to the flow of caffeine and streams of morning light. Over the top of her coffee mug, Sarah watches Chuck study her. "What?" she asks in a groggy voice.

"Nothing. You just look a little tired. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I did. Just not long enough. I guess all the travel is catching up with me. Plus I had this really weird dream that we were at a nudist colony, in a drum circle with this retro-hippy named Moon Meadow. Come to think of it, that wasn't even the weirdest part of the dream."

Chuck lets out a nervous laugh and gives her a half smile before draining the rest of his coffee. "I want more coffee. Do you want more coffee?"

"Chuck. We _were_ at a nudist colony?" she asks incredulous.

"Um, yes?"

"With someone called Moon Meadow."

He nods.

"I think I will have more coffee."

After refilling their mugs, they return to the couch, and Chuck begins his tale, "Sarah, this story ultimately ties in with the larger, convoluted Shaw story. I'll tell you as much as you want to hear." He watches for her reaction.

At the mention of Shaw, Sarah shivers, and her happy mood darkens. "I don't know why, Chuck, but I'm not ready for Shaw. Every time you've mentioned him, a chill runs through me."

"Yeah. I pretty much have the same reaction."

"I really don't like him, do I."

"That would be the understatement of the year." Chuck puts his arm on the back of the couch. She slides next to him and props her feet next to his on the coffee table to listen to his story.

He picks up the story right after their defusing the bomb in the Lotus and catching Jane the Viper. A cozy feeling settles over her as Chuck talks about their family celebration ... and evaporates completely, when he gets to the part about Decker crashing the party. Her loathing of Decker grows as Chuck tells how he arrested Casey, then kidnapped them and forced them to steal the Omen virus.

"He tranqued us, didn't he?"

"You're remembering simultaneously again?"

"Mm-hmm. Some parts." She snuggles closer to Chuck.

Chuck puts his arm around her and continues his story. Sarah chuckles at how alarmingly similar Casey and Verbanski are and smiles at Chuck's version of the nudist camp adventure. She smirks into his t-shirt, as the events replay in her mind. Her thoughts begin to drift, and she vaguely remembers offering Gertrude advice about her feelings for Casey. _There are some things about my new self that I still can't wrap my brain around._ Chuck takes her cup before she spills coffee all over them. By the time he tells about Verbanski vaporizing Decker, she falls asleep on the thought that she rather likes this woman.

—^v^—

Her bed is moving. She breaths a contented sigh to be back on the yacht. Wait, that can't be right. Then why is her bed moving? Not the bed. The couch. She's on the couch, on top of Chuck, who is squirming out from under her. She cracks one eye and glares at him.

"Sorry, Baby,"—he kisses her forehead—"I have to get ready. I promised to put in another day at the Buymore."

"The Buymore, huh? You sure you're not, mmm, I don't know, putting a new roof on our house?"

"Ah ha ha ha. Aren't you funny."

"No, I'm half asleep. If you want funny, I need more coffee and another thirty minutes."

—^v^—

Sarah looks at her watch ... 5:00 p.m. She puts the last picture in its frame and places it on the table behind the couch. She surveys her handiwork with satisfaction. New pictures now stand side by side with the old ones all over their apartment.

A sense of awe washes over her when she notices the same expression of love and happiness on her face in the new pictures that she sees in the older pictures.

—^v^—

Chuck comes in the door balancing a pizza in one hand with a small gift under his arm, a few sacks of groceries in the other hand, the mail tucked under his chin and his keys clenched in his teeth. As he concentrates on closing the door, the pizza box begins to tilt. Sarah rushes to catch the pizza just before it hits the floor. Chuck opens his mouth to thank her, which sends the keys and the mail into free-fall, the mail sliding across the floor and the keys thudding onto the pizza box. Sarah stands up, grinning with affection. "Chuck, I would have been happy to help ... or you could've made two trips."

"So you and Ellie always tell me." He kisses her hello over the pizza box.

She puts the keys by the door and carries the pizza to the table. Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she turns. He holds up a small, beautifully wrapped package. They both speak at once, "I have something to show you."/"Brought you a present."

They smile. He puts his gift on the table. "You first."

She retrieves a gift-wrapped present from the book case and hands it to him with a shy smile. She watches as he carefully unwraps the gift. He turns the frame over and looks at the picture. His face relaxes into a soft smile, as he studies the picture. She steps closer and kisses his cheek. "Do you like it?"

He clears his throat. "I'll never forget this moment or the way you looked at me. Especially now, of course, since you gave me the picture." He smiles and kisses her, pulling her close.

She pulls back. "Come on. There's more." She pulls him around the apartment from picture to picture. "I wanted to add to our collection," she tells him as he examines the last picture beside their bed.

He looks at her with a soft smile. "And have some pictures that you remember."

"Yeah," she admits with a quiet voice and looks down.

"Sarah, I love these pictures. Even more, I love that you wanted to add to our collection." He sets the picture down and cups her shoulders. "The last two weeks were the happiest two weeks of my life."

She looks up at him with a mix of hope and relief, "Really?"

"Of course. I meant it when I told you that life with you only gets better." He searches her eyes. "What we have ... this life that we're building, right now … it isn't a consolation prize. It's everything I want. You, Sarah. You are everything I want."

She couldn't look away if she wanted to. His eyes draw her in and open her up. She whispers, "Me, too." They are inches apart, and her heart is pounding in her ears. Chuck closes the distance and kisses her, slowly at first and then with a possessive intensity that leaves no doubt as to how much he loves her ... wants her.

He pulls away and manages a whisper, "The pizza's getting cold."

She trails kisses up the side of his neck … slowly. "We can reheat it later."

He groans, pulls her closer, and continues the kiss. She pushes him backwards onto the bed.

Pizza can wait.

—^v^—

Later, they sit on the couch munching on reheated pizza slices. Chuck hands her his gift, which she rips into without ceremony. It's a DVD with a picture of them on the front. She is piggy backed on Chuck's back with her arms wrapped around him. She recognizes the photo from the front of their wedding book. The title across the top reads _Chuck and Sarah_. The subtitle at the bottom: _The Movie_. She chuckles and turns it over. On the back is a picture from their Caribbean honeymoon. In the background, an overcast sunset diffuses rosy gray hues over an eerily placid harbor, where sail boats and yachts of all sizes and shapes appear embedded in smoky glass. Chuck stands behind her, his head next to hers and his arms circled around her. Her arms rest on top of his, their wedding rings in full view. She smiles. It's the same picture she tucked into her suitcase, next to the other one that she had apparently always kept there before. The title across the top, like the front, is _Chuck and Sarah_. The subtitle at the bottom: _The Sequel_.

He puts in the DVD and explains that he put all their videos on this one DVD, then added videos from their Caribbean honeymoon. He even included a Pirates of the Caribbean section, with their footage of the DEA pirates, and a Ned Pirate Roberts section with the Yacht Club security footage of the take down.

Sarah settles next to Chuck and relives these happy moments with the man who made them possible. She gains a few real memories as she watches. Whereas she has seen the wedding before, now she actually remembers it. She tingles with the excitement of regaining this moment of her life. Parts of the rehearsal dinner come back to her, and new emotions ripple through her as she listens to Mary's toast and watches Jeff's video. The montage of the Caribbean honeymoon taps a deep well of emotion and her heart overflows with a love and happiness she never thought possible.

The video ends, and Chuck turns off the TV and puts the DVD back in its case.

Sarah snags his hand. "Com'ere." She tugs him down on the couch and settles on top of him. She looks at him and rests her hand on his chest. "I love you. I remember loving you. And I think I love you more now than I ever have." She kisses him and puts her head on his shoulder.

He pushes the hair back from her eyes and presses his lips to her forehead. "I love you more every day, Sarah." He reaches for the blanket on the back of the couch and pulls it over them, ending the day the way it began.

**Grand Gift Auto**

"Chuck, are you coming? We'll be late to meet the realtor," Sarah calls back toward the bedroom.

"Yeah, Baby, I'm coming." Chuck appears with a big smile on his face. "You ready for this?"

"I think I'm past ready for this. I keep dreaming of an office with windows."

"Yeah, I noticed that all the spaces you picked out had more window than wall." He circles his arms around her waist.

"Well, if you think you'll be homesick for the bunker, we can always put your office in an interior closet." She teases him with a kiss.

"Hmm. An interior closet could have its perks." He bobs his eyebrows and kisses her back.

"How about you, Chuck? Are you ready for this? Anything you're going to miss … besides the storage closet?"

"No. We're finally moving on with our life, Sarah, and it feels so good."

"It does."

"And the best things aren't changing. You're still my partner ... in everything. We're still doing good things together, still catching bad guys. And we're doing it on our terms."

"Mm. No more secrets. No more dangerous missions or kidnappings."

"Or arms dealers or terrorists or assassins."

They sigh.

Chuck pulls her toward the door. "I'm trying to imagine what it will be like to have an inventory that looks like we're running a business and not a small war."

"Or office space where the fragrance of coffee isn't tainted with the smell of gun oil." She closes the door behind them.

They walk hand in hand through the courtyard and out to the street. Chuck bends down to tie his shoes as Sarah steps to the curb where she parked her car. "Chuck!"

He jumps up. "What? Sarah, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"My car. It's gone."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I know what my car looks like, and it's not here." Sarah paces back and forth and looks up and down the block and pulls out her cell phone. "I'm calling the police."

"Hold on, Sarah. Breathe. Of course, I know you know what your car looks like. I just meant that maybe we parked it someplace else."

"No, I parked it right here. I always park it right here." Sarah's voice crescendoes into panicked irritation.

"Okay, okay. You're right. But if we call the police, the realtor will think we've blown her off. Again. So, here,"—he hands her his keys—"we can take my car, and then we'll call the police."

"Chuck. My car was stolen."

"I know, Baby." He pulls her into a hug, and she finally relaxes just a little. "But it'll be okay. I promise. We'll call the police in a couple of hours. I don't want us to lose your glass office." He rubs her back a moment longer. "Now, come on. We don't want to be late."

"Okay." She looks at him with a tiny smile and hits the unlock button on the key he handed her. Instead of the Mexican Hat Dance, she hears the Happy Birthday Song. She turns around looks up and down the block again and doesn't see the Herder.

"Hit it again, Sarah."

She presses the button, again. The birthday song plays again. Right across the street the lights flash in rhythm to the song, and the windshield wipers swipe back and forth on a new, midnight blue Porsche 911 convertible.

Sarah turns toward Chuck, a look of shock and confusion on her face.

A smile spreads across his face, and his eyes dance with pure joy.

"Chuck?"

"How do you like your new car, Sarah?"

"It's mine?" Her eyes well with tears.

"Yeah. Did I do something wrong? I thought you didn't like the Lotus, that you missed your Porsche. But it's not a done deal until you give the okay, so we can get the Lotus back or pick out a different car or a different color or ..."

In one stride and a leap, she is in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist. "Chuck." She captures his lips in an enthusiastic kiss. He holds her tight. "I love the car, and I love you for surprising me with it."

His face relaxes into his happy smile.

She yanks on his arm and drags him across the street. "Come on, Chuck. We don't want to be late."


	9. First Case

**~ First Case + Goldie Locks and the Three Brunettes ~**

Cocooned in the blissful state between sleep and awareness, Sarah snuggles into Chuck, who is spooned behind her. He tightens his arm around her, and her thoughts drift back to their anniversary weekend. The beautiful drive up Hwy 1: the sun and the wind and the rush of driving those coastal curves in her Porsche. Being with Chuck: fun days, peaceful evenings … intimate moments. His kiss on the back of her neck, his touch. _Sigh._ A familiar jolt of pleasure shoots through her. His lips work their way around the base of her neck. _Not a dream._ She turns in his arms and swallows a moan. "Don't start something you're not prepared to finish Chuck."

"I always finish what I start, Sarah." He hovers over her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. She rises up to capture his lips with hers, and together they finish what he started.

—^v^—

Sarah gratefully accepts the cup of coffee Chuck holds out to her. "So, you ready for this ... the opening day of Carmichael Industries Cyber Security Agency?"

"Oh, I am soo ready." He circles his arm around her waist. "I couldn't have done any of it without you, Sarah."

She puts her cup down and twines her arms behind his neck. "And I wouldn't be who I am without you. That's how this works, Chuck."

He pulls her close. "I love you, you know."

She hugs him tight, not wanting to consider what her life would be like without him … if Quinn … She buries those thoughts, refusing to even acknowledge the possibility. "I know. And I love you," she whispers.

With a sigh, she steps out of his arms. "I guess we'd better go. We're meeting Morgan and Alex in an hour."

**New Digs**

"Man, this turned out awesome!" Morgan gawks at Carmichael Industries new space like a kid at Disneyland. "You guys are incredible."

"Morgan, you helped ... a lot ... remember," Sarah reminds him.

"Yeah, yeah, moving stuff and doing what Chuck told me to. But the concept and the design and the space and the technology, that's all you guys. And it is fantastic."

Alex agrees, "Morgan's right, especially considering what it looked like before. Nobody would believe it."

=—=—=  
>Most of the spaces Sarah had picked to look at before—before Quinn—were no longer available, including the Reagan space that had been her first choice. In a last ditch effort to offer his clients something with space and light, the realtor took them to a building that was part of a revitalization project. It was the tallest of ten abandoned warehouses being refurbished into a retro-modern complex of offices, restaurants, and stores; all surrounded by a beautifully landscaped mall with meandering sidewalks, benches, sculptures and the occasional pool or fountain. The complex backed up to a protected green area with a lake and jogging trails.<p>

The exterior of the six story building was beautiful. The old windows had been replaced with blue reflective glass, and the brick and concrete had been restored to pristine condition. The interior walls were likewise restored, but the building was essentially a shell, with one concrete floor and a few catwalks. The concrete floor divided the building into two, three-story spaces. Carmichael Industries bought the shell for a ridiculously low price. They kept the upper space for CI and leased the lower space to the Cheesecake Factory.

Chuck and Sarah spent hours walking the catwalks together, planning how to use their huge brick shell. Sarah designed the space, and Chuck developed the schematics for the building's technology. Then they oversaw the implementation of their designs, with Morgan and Alex as their wing men. Alex had the forethought to document the project through photos and videos, and her photos are now on display throughout the building.  
>=—=—=<p>

The open spaces and modern design, including the use of soundproof, smart glass for walls, give CI a high tech, state-of-the-art feel, befitting a cyber security agency. No client will leave unimpressed.

The bottom floor is a redesign of Castle: a large, open area with flat screens everywhere and multiple work stations. CI's main computer, enclosed its own glass space, occupies the entire far wall. This area is surrounded by storage areas, offices for future employees, a kitchen, a workout room, a small armory, and a dojo for training. Bad guys—cyber or otherwise—are still bad, so they maintain some weapons and keep up their defense training, hoping they won't need either very often.

The second floor, the client area, wraps around three sides of the building and overlooks the open computer area below. The elevator opens into a large central sitting/reception area overlooking the park. At each end are offices for meeting with clients and a conference room.

The private top floor is glass on three sides with a glass roof. At one end, Chuck and Sarah have a large corner office and generous personal spaces. At the other end are similar spaces for Morgan and Alex, with an area reserved for Casey: a large office with a display of weapons from each U.S. war and a desk with his photo of Ronald Reagan.

Chuck and Sarah and Morgan and Alex eat lunch at a table on the top floor, overlooking the lake, and drink a toast to their new company and the roles each will fill: Chuck, CEO, chief technology officer and hacker extraordinaire; Sarah, co-CEO, chief espionage officer and spy extraordinaire; Morgan, chief support and logistics officer; Alex, CI's business manager; and Casey, if he returns, head of field ops.

Later that afternoon, Chuck and Sarah meet with their first client … a bank in San Diego.

**First Case**  
><strong>June 28, 2012<strong>

How did she end up here? Of course, she knows how, but this is supposed to be a safer job. Yet here she is in the hospital waiting area, her white shirt smeared with Chuck's blood.

The smiling, well coiffed news duo update the world on today's top story: "Kristy, we have more information coming in about the attempted armed robbery of the Pacific Bank and Trust of San Diego, where earlier today, four armed men entered the bank, held thirty-nine people hostage, and demanded that the manager open the vault. The police have finally released the identity of the heroes we've heard so much about: Mr and Mrs Charles Carmichael, owners of Carmichael Industries, a security consulting firm based in Burbank." Chuck and Sarah's pictures fill the screen.

Sarah really, really wants to throw something at the television.

"That's right, Carl, and get this. Carmichael Industries is the same firm responsible for stopping the Omen Virus last Christmas. When we asked for more information on the couple, the police would only tell us that they are retired federal agents, and their records are sealed at the highest level. Whoever they are, the security footage speaks for itself."

Sarah doesn't need to watch the footage. She remembers it all too well.

=—=—=  
>They pulled up in front of the Pacific Bank and Trust in San Diego at 6:30 a.m. Chuck was on top of the world. "Okay, Carmichael Industries, looking good. Not only does this job represent a pretty good chunk of change, but it could lead to other big clients." Morgan's job was to complete phase one of the project and get the new CI surveillance and alarm system up and running before the doors opened. Sarah and Chuck worked on the other phases of the project: identifying the bank's vulnerabilities, whether physical or electronic. While Sarah began an evaluation of building security, looking for weaknesses and entry points, Chuck initiated his analysis of the security of the computer system, its overall potential vulnerabilities, as well as the internal code of the software.<p>

They were greeted at the door by a man about Chuck's height with a receding hairline, an aquiline nose, and wire rimmed glasses that magnified his beady eyes. Chuck extended his hand, which the other man ignored, preferring to ogle Chuck's wife. Chuck finally withdrew his hand. "Good morning. I'm Charles Carmichael of Carmichael Industries. This is my team: my wife, Sarah, and my brother, Michael. The manager, Mr. Brown, is expecting us."

"Mr. Brown wont' be in today. I'm in charge for the day. I'm the Assistant Manager, Edward Millbarge," the man said with an officious air.

Morgan's eyes went round as saucers, and Chuck coughed and practically choked. Sarah thumped his back, wishing her memory was more complete. Chuck regained his voice and asked Mr Millbarge if he had a cousin or brother. "I met an Emmett Millbarge in Burbank once."

The man brightened. "Emmett is my older brother. He manages the Alaska stores of a national discount chain. It must be a very important job, because I haven't heard from him since he went up there." Something tugged at the edge of Sarah's memory but eluded her. Chuck and Morgan exchanged knowing looks.

"Alright, Mr Millbarge. Let's get to work." Chuck finally persuaded Edward that he and Sarah needed master key cards in order to conduct their analyses. Chuck further insisted that Sarah would need a set of blue prints that she could take back to the office and that he would need administrative access to the computer system. Sarah watched the exchange with a smile, knowing that her Nerd could easily hack into their system, but chose to ask anyway. The way Edward fussed and fumed about protocol, one would think they had asked for keys to the Tower of London. When Chuck suggested that he call Mr. Brown for confirmation, Mr Millbarge reluctantly provided them with what they needed to do their jobs.

After a com check, they went to work. Chuck and Sarah went together to the IT floor. Chuck held up his key card. "The brains are that way." He pointed to the north end of the corridor.

She held up her key card and pointed south. "There's a conference room at that end where I can spread out the blueprints. Then I'll do my walk through."

"See you back at Edward's office in two hours." He leaned in for a quick kiss, but before he could pull away, she fisted a hand in his shirt and pulled him closer to get an extra mile or two out of the kiss. Sarah smiled at her husband. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an attractive woman with shoulder length brown hair in one of the IT offices. The woman wore a gray suit and an astonished expression. For some reason, Sarah felt an accute unease with undertones of … sadness. When she turned toward the office the woman quickly turned away and busied herself with her computer.

Sarah unlocked the conference room and spread the blueprints out on the table. There was a timid knock on the door, and a friendly young woman poked her head in. "Hi. I'm Lynn. I'm interning with Mrs. Michaels. She wants to know if you'd like some coffee or water or a soft drink or anything,"—she glanced at Sarah's rings—"Mrs …"

"Bartowski. Or Carmichael. Just Sarah. And some coffee would be great, thank you."

Lynn looked confused. "You have two names?"

"Carmichael is just a business identity."

"Oh." Lynn disappeared and returned with coffee and a box of pastries. Lynn made no move to leave, instead asking all sorts of questions about Sarah and Carmichael Industries: what they do, where they're from, how long they've been married. It felt a little … off.

"Thank you, Lynn, and be sure to thank your boss," Sarah said with a gracious smile, as she walked Lynn to the door.

After studying the blueprints, Sarah took the rest of the coffee and pastries to Chuck and began her first walk-through. As she waited at the elevator, she read the directory of names for the floor. One name in particular caught her eye: IT Director ... Hannah Michaels … 801. _Hmm, I wonder_ _if it's the same Hannah. That would explain Lynn's questions._

At 9:25 Sarah headed for Edward's office. "Hey, Chuck, I'm on my way," she told him through their ear pieces.

"Okay, Baby, see you soon," came the reply.

Through her com, she heard Chuck talking to Edward, "Mr Millbarge, my team has finished phase one of the project. Both you and Mr Brown have access to surveillance through your computers, as well as a manual trigger for the silent alarm. Here let me show you." There was a pause in the conversation, then Chuck spoke again, "Thanks. Just click on this CI icon … and … there. You have access to all the cam … uh oh ... not good, not good! I'm pressing that trigger now."

Sarah picked up her pace. "Chuck, what's wrong."

"Morgan, I need you to monitor surveillance and keep eyes on everything. Warn people in the building to keep away from the bank lobby. Sarah, four guys with guns just came in the front door, and one of them is headed this way."

"Roger that," Morgan replied in their ears.

Sarah approached Edward's office, staying out of view. "I'm getting into position, Chuck. With a little luck we can take this one down." She could see Chuck sitting at the computer and Edward staring wide-eyed at the screen.

The robber entered the office. He was average height, well built, with buzzed blond hair and wore a gray suit. He pointed a shotgun at Edward and Chuck. "The information lady said this was the manager's office."

Chuck kept one eye on the robber and one eye on the screen. Edward was extremely forthcoming, if not entirely honest, "He's the manager." Edward pointed at Chuck. "I'm just an assistant. A teller. I'm a new teller." Sarah held a finger to her lips and moved with stealth behind the assailant, getting in position to disarm him. "And she's his wife," Edward yelled, pointing at Sarah.

Sarah quickly changed her demeanor from spy to frightened wife. The gunman turned toward Sarah. Chuck's brows furrowed, and he gaped at Edward with incredulity. "Seriously?" His eyes shot daggers at Edward. The gunman drew a Sig Sauer from under his coat and motioned Sarah into the room. She positioned herself far enough from Chuck that the gunman couldn't keep both of them in his field of vision.

Morgan's voice came through their coms. "Okay, Chuck. The three guys in the lobby made everyone sit on the floor in front of the teller counter, which is across the lobby from the front door and a little to the right. The tellers are cleaning out the tills. Looks like one shotgun and two sigs."

The gunman motioned the three of them out of the office. At the edge of the lobby, they were joined by a second gunman with a shot gun in his left hand. He was tall and thin with a neat cap of dark hair, and dressed just like gunman number one. The first gunman pushed Edward toward the tellers, "Over there, on the floor with the others."

Chuck looked closely at the gunmen and gave Sarah his _yes, I flashed_ nod.

A petite older woman scurried up to Edward and handed him a phone. "The police want to speak to the manager." Edward thrust the phone into Chuck's hand, as if it were a live grenade.

Chuck took the phone and put it to his ear, the one with the com, so that Morgan and Sarah could hear the conversation. "Hello."

"This is Captain Cook with the San Diego Police Department. Who's this?"

"This is Charles Carmichael. I am the … designated manager."

"Carmichael. Carmichael. ... You're not on our list," the captain grumbled.

"Yes, that would be correct." Chuck gave the gunman a confident nod and a thumbs up.

"You don't even work at the bank, do you?" Captain Cook's voice grew more agitated.

"Yes, sir, that's right. Before I became the manager here, I was a security consultant. You guys are very thorough." Chuck tried to reassure the cranky captain.

Sarah watched her husband and listened to the conversation, admiring his ability to hide the truth from the gunmen while communicating it to the police, thus putting everyone at ease … well maybe not Captain Cranky.

"Then what the hell are you doing with the phone?" Cook shouted.

Sarah winced.

"Yes, sir, I have been in a similar situation before. I can tell you that so far no one is hurt, and things are relatively calm. … Right. Of course, I'll keep the phone handy." Chuck kept talking even though the captain had hung up on him. Sarah chuckled to herself and listened to Chuck. "Mm-hmm. … Okay. Got it. … I'll ask. Hold on." Chuck held the phone to his chest and looked at gunmen one and two. "You know the police might be more understanding if you let some of the hostages go."

"Nick, you never said anything about hostages," gunman one said. Nick rolled his eyes, "Shut up Kyle."

"Here's the thing ... Kyle. When you hold people at gun point, the police tend to consider them your hostages," Chuck explained with patience.

Nick handed Kyle a walkie-talkie and planted his finger in Chuck's chest. "Enough. You go with Kyle and open the vault. Your wife stays here with me." He shoved Sarah toward a big granite column. "You, stay there and keep quiet, or your husband dies." Sarah nodded, infusing her expression with the right amount of fear.

She assessed the situation: about ten bank employees and maybe thirty or so customers. The other two gunmen, dressed just like the first two, kept watch. One held a gun on the tellers, who were filling bags with money, and one held a gun on the customers. Nick seemed to be the leader.

Morgan's voice was in Sarah's ear, "Chuck is in the vault with Kyle. He's doing fine. You're doing great, man. I'm sending the captain's number to your cell, in case you need it."

Sarah speaks in a quiet voice, "Chuck, do you have any of Casey's twilight darts?"

"I do … I do this every day, Kyle. Don't look so nervous. I'm just going to enter my authorization codes into my app here, on my phone" … Chuck hummed as he worked … "aaand disable the silent alarm to the swat team. … There."

Morgan's voice again, "Okay Sarah. Chuck just texted me the names of the gunmen. Should I text the police?"

Sarah leaned casually against the column and hummed a soft, "Mm-hmm."

Then Sarah heard Kyle's distraught voice. "There weren't supposed to be any police. We shut off the alarm system. It was supposed to be quick and easy … in and out." Chuck's voice again, "Oh, Kyle, bad timing. The bank had a new system installed at seven this morning. Bummer, man."

Sarah spoke in a quiet voice, "Chuck, can you do the safe?"

Chuck's voice, "Let's see here, Kyle. Piece of cake. Kyle, are you okay? Because you look a little nervous. It's all good, man. Don't worry." … more humming … Chuck was reassuring Sarah as well as Kyle. "Done. See, that wasn't so hard." Next Sarah heard Kyle tell Chuck that his radio wouldn't work. Sarah smiled, knowing that Chuck had blocked their frequencies. "Oh, yeah," Chuck put Kyle at ease, talking to him like a friend, "I should have warned you about that. Those things never work in here. But hey, there's the vault. Take a look." Sarah held her breath, hoping Kyle would take the bait. She heard a thud and then Chuck's voice, "Nighty-night, Kyle. Sleep tight, and may you dream of large… bags of money. … Sarah, one down. Show time."

Chuck strode into the lobby, looking appropriately worried. "Mr. Nick. Ah, your friend Kyle? He fainted."

Nick swung his gun in Chuck's face. "What do you mean, fainted?"

Chuck swallowed and looked cross-eyed at the gun. "Well, um, you know …"—Chuck does a dizzy act and slaps the back of his right hand in his left palm—" … boom. Out like a light. I couldn't wake him up. I think we need a doctor or something." Chuck really sold it. Sarah was enjoying the show. He was so much fun to watch.

"No. He stays with us. Drag him out here and put him over there by your wife." Sarah was to the left of the front door as you enter the bank. Nick stood near her, and the other two gunmen stayed close to the counter and the hostages.

Chuck left and returned, dragging an unconscious Kyle, whom he dropped behind Sarah. He looked at Nick with concern in his eyes. "My wife was a nurse"—he saw Sarah's eyebrows shoot up—"once. A while back. If you want her to check him ..." Nick nodded.

Sarah placed her hands on Kyle's neck, checking his pulse with one hand, while giving him a second dose of the knockout drug with the other. She made a show of checking his pupils. "His heart rate is erratic and weak. Could be endo-cardio-myelitis. He needs a hospital ... STAT," Sarah said with the right balance of medical authority and concern. Chuck tilted his head, his eyes dancing with mirth and his lips twitching. She shrugged. It was the best mumbo jumbo she could come up with on the fly. She sincerely hoped Nick wasn't a doctor.

Chuck's pocket started ringing. He answered the phone, "Charles Carmichael."

"What's going on in there, Carmichael? And how did you get the names of the gunmen?" Captain Contrary groused.

Chuck pinned Nick with a glare and nodded toward Kyle. Nick looked at Kyle, who looked deathly pale, thanks to the double tranques. He gave Chuck a reluctant nod. Chuck spoke to the crabby captain, "Captain Cook, none of the hostages has been harmed. However, one of the robbers collapsed and needs medical attention ASAP."

"Oh Yeah? Well, he can rot in there, for all I care. This five man crew has already robbed several banks and killed two security guards."

Chuck looked at Sarah and lifted his brow in question. She shrugged. Morgan sounded off, "Hey, we got lucky. The fifth guy didn't make it today."

"Captain, if you would send in a stretcher and an EMT, we'll load up Kyle, the robber who collapsed. We're working hard to make sure everybody goes home alive today … including Kyle. Hold on." Chuck puts the phone to his chest and speaks to Nick, "I think this would go much smoother, for you, if you let some of the hostages leave with Kyle. You know, mothers with kids, old people. The police might be less likely to come in guns blazing." Nick pushed his right hand through his hair and nodded. "Captain Cook," Chuck spoke into the phone again, then held it at arms length, staring at it. "Heh. We got disconnected." Chuck pulled out his cell and dialed the captain's number. "Captain Cook? Charles Carmichael, again. We got cut off."

"That's because I hung up on you."

"Yeah, I know. Weird, huh?" Chuck looked at Nick and shrugged. Sarah gave Chuck a small smile and mentally rolled her eyes at Captain Cantankerous. "Nick has agreed to release a number of hostages with the unconscious gunman. If you could arrange for that stretcher I asked for, it will get the women and children and old people to safety and reassure the public."

"Okay. I'll send someone in, but the hostages come out first."

"Done."

Nick motioned to Chuck with his shotgun. "Pick your hostages, but no more than twelve."

Chuck went down the line of hostages and chose the pregnant woman, women with children, and older people. One distinguished looking gentleman declined the privilege of his age and offered the husband of the pregnant woman his place among the hostages to be released.

The hostages left as the stretcher came in. Sarah helped the EMT load Kyle on the stretcher, taking the opportunity to let the woman know that he was not really critical at all, merely hit with a high dose of tranquillizer that should wear off in twelve hours. The EMT stared at Sarah, slack jawed, then nodded with a hint of admiration in her eyes.

Sarah turned and looked at Chuck. He was watching her with such love and pride. She returned the same sentiments in her gaze.

Nick motioned to one of the tellers and yanked the older distinguished gentleman off the floor. "You two go fill the bags with money. You've got ten minutes, or you die," he said, shoving the bags into their hands.

For the first time, Nick and the other two gunmen stood together in the middle of the room. Chuck and Sarah looked at each other. Sarah nodded, casually reaching for the knife that stays tucked in her rear waist band. Chuck began making conversation. "Hey, have you guys been eating the fresh fruit this season? It is really good." Nick glared at him. Chuck nodded to Sarah and continued. "My favorite is the pineapple."

"On it, Chuck." Morgan's voice came seconds before the fire alarm blared. It was the distraction they needed. Nick and the other two gunmen looked up. Sarah threw a knife, and Chuck pulled his tranque pistol. Sarah's knife lodged between the bones of Nick's gun hand, causing him to cry out in pain and drop the gun. By then the other two gunmen were already out cold on the floor. Before Nick could reach for his Sig, Chuck tranqued him, too.

The three gunmen lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

Chuck and Sarah smiled at each other in relief, and the hostages cheered. As they turned toward the two hostages returning from the vault, all the celebration was sucked out of the room. The distinguished older gentleman held the woman in a choke hold with a gun to her head.

The fifth man.

"Nobody move." The hostages froze and sat back down, fear in their eyes. "You two,"—he looked at Chuck and Sarah and tightened his hold on the teller's neck—"Back off." The woman's face was a mask of fear. He dragged her in front of the hostages, toed a briefcase, and ordered one of the hostages to open it.

Chuck and Sarah's eyes widened at the bomb in the briefcase. The fifth man reached into the briefcase and pulled out a familiar device. He wrapped his hand around it and squeezed the lever of the dead man's switch. He closed the gun in the brief case with the bomb and looked at Chuck and Sarah, his eyes stone cold. Gone was his gentle demeanor. "If I die, the bomb goes off. If I pass out, the bomb goes off. If I drop this or let go of it for any reason, the bomb goes off. I decide if you live or if you die." He turned to the hostages and pointed to two tellers. "Go get the bags with the money. If you're not back in three minutes, I release the switch, and the bank goes BOOM." He swaggered to the middle of the room, brandishing his weapon, intoxicated with its power.

At that moment, the front doors of the bank imploded, and Captain Crazy led his men into the bank, with their weapons drawn. He came to a halt and lowered his weapon, blinking in shock at the three gunmen on the floor. Then he noticed the fifth man. Chuck and Sarah saw the hero lust in his eyes. They looked at each other. As the captain raised his weapon, Sarah screamed, "Nooooooo." Time stood still. Then the sickening events played out in slow motion. Keeping his eyes on the gun, Chuck broke into a run, arms and legs pumping. Sarah followed. She watched Chuck watch the gun, her legs churning through quick sand. _Nooooo._ Chuck pushed off like a long jumper, and his body floated through the air, parallel to the floor. Captain Calamity squeezed the trigger. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. Chuck flew in front of the fifth man, took the bullet and landed on the floor. Everyone was frozen with shock. As Chuck slid across the polished floor, Sarah wrapped her hands around the fifth man's hand and delivered a swift kick to the side of his head, keeping a death grip on his hand as he fell to the ground. She tamped down the panic rising in her chest and spoke to Chuck, "Chuck. Chuck, are you okay?"

Chuck moaned. "Yeah, Sar, mm okay." His speech was slurred, with pain.

"Can you look at the bomb."

"For you Baby, I can do anything." She smiled but realized it was the shock talking.

"Call an ambulance," Sarah commanded, "and open that briefcase."

Morgan's voice was in her ear. "Ambulance is on the way, Sarah. Just breathe. I'm here."

"I don't take orders from you." Captain Cretin glared down at her.

"There's a bomb in the briefcase, you pompous idiot," she yelled. She curbed her voice but not her anger. "The man you fired at was holding a dead man's switch." She raised her hands wrapped around the fifth man's hand. "I would show it to you, but if I let go, the bomb will explode. The bomb in that briefcase. The man who took your bullet and saved your life can disarm the bomb, but he may not be conscious much longer. So, I'll ask again. Open the damn briefcase. … Please." She said the 'please' sweetly and smiled at him.

Morgan held Captain Crabby's gaze as he walked between him and Sarah. He knelt down and opened the briefcase, speaking for Sarah's ears only, "Douche." Sarah smiled. He slid the gun to the captain's feet and looked at Sarah. "I got this, Sarah. It'll be okay."

"Thank you, Morgan. Hurry." She felt herself relax a little.

Morgan took the briefcase to Chuck. "Dude, that was awesome! Now take a look at the bomb, and tell me which wire to cut, huh, Buddy."

By then the police had gotten everyone out of the bank. Only Captain Catastrophe remained with Sarah and the fifth man, who was still unconscious on the floor. They watched as Chuck peered into the briefcase. "Hey, Little Buddy, there's a bomb in your briefcase." He tried to focus on Morgan.

"Yeah, Chuck, I know. Take a really, really good look at it, and tell me which wire to cut."

Chuck stared at the bomb, concentrating hard. "Thebluewon. Cut the blue wire."

Morgan cut the blue wire and took off with the briefcase. "Hang on, Sarah." Moments later, Morgan's voice was in her ear, "Okay, the bomb is locked in the vault. You can let go."

Sarah dropped the fifth man's hand, and the detonator slipped onto the floor—no kaboom. She ran to Chuck, heart pounding, and skidded to her knees beside him, taking off her jacket. "Chuck, Chuck. Can you hear me?" She folded her jacket and put it under his head.

He winced. "In stereo."

"Sorry." She turned off her ear piece . "Stay with me." He was hit in the upper right chest. There was a lot of blood, but he was still alive and breathing okay, so it missed his lung and major arteries.

He gave her his most gorgeous smile, but his eyes betrayed the pain and the shock. Despite his efforts, the smile faded to a wince. "Hurts."

"I know, Chuck. I'm sorry." Tears ran down her face. "I have to put pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding. I know it hurts."

Sarah pressed his handkerchief to the wound. "Chuck, don't go to sleep. Talk to me." She gave him a smile. The bank and the noise faded. It was just the two of them. "What were you thinking diving in front of that bullet, hmm?" she cooed.

He wiped her tears with his left hand. "Was thinkin bout not gettin sploded into itty, bitty pieces. Used my noggin to cal … calcumate … calibrate where to take the hit." His brow wrinkled with a combination of confusion and pain.

"I know, Chuck." She kept pressure on the wound with her left hand and ran her right hand through his hair. "You did great." She dropped soft kisses on his forehead ... "You saved a lot of lives" ... his eye … "again" … his cheek … "including ours." ... his lips.

He smiled that beautiful, loopy smile again. "Love you, Sarah."

"I love you, too. Stay with me. Don't go to sleep."

"K."

The noise returned. A stretcher and two EMTs came on the other side of him. After he was on the stretcher with an IV flowing, Sarah resumed her place at Chuck's side, took his hand and walked beside the stretcher. When they exited the bank, the former hostages lined the path to the ambulance and cheered.

Captain Cook started to pull Sarah away, "Just where do you think you're going. I have some questions for you."

Sarah pinned him with a deadly glare and spoke with an authority she didn't have and a calm she didn't feel, "I'm going to the hospital with my husband."

Cook drew in a breath and started to object, "I don't know who you think you are ..." Sarah cocked one eyebrow. The captain swallowed, but showed no sign of backing down.

The Chief of Police pocketed his cell phone and intervened, laying a hand on Cook's arm. "I've got this." The disgruntled captain strode away in a huff.

The Police Chief addressed Sarah, "Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael,"—he nodded toward the ambulance—"both of you. Go with your husband. We wish him well."

"Thank you." Sarah climbed into the ambulance with Chuck, and the Police Chief closed the doors.

=—=—=

So, here she is, alone—because the police nabbed Morgan to get his statement—while Chuck is in surgery.

The doctor told her that Chuck had been lucky. Obviously the bullet missed his heart and his aorta and major arteries or he wouldn't be here. It appeared to have missed his lung and ribs as well. Even though Chuck said he calculated the trajectory, Sarah still felt overwhelming relief from those words.

She bounces her knee, looks at a magazine, tosses it on the table, and occasionally swipes at a wayward tear. She pulls out her phone and starts thumbing through pictures.

Thanks to the informative news broadcast, people around the waiting room are stealing sideways glances at her and staring at her over their magazines and coffee cups. The petite brunette, _what is it with brunettes today_, who has been covertly studying Sarah ever since she arrived, gets up and leaves. Sarah can't shake the feeling she should know the woman.

Pretty soon, the diminutive brunette comes back with a shopping bag and sits down next to Sarah. "Hey. I'm sorry about … your husband. You guys were pretty awesome," she says, nodding toward the TV. Sarah looks at her and offers a shrug and a small smile. The woman continues, "Anyways, I went to the gift shop and brought you a bottle of water, because they were all out of scotch … kidding. Some ibuprofen, because you're bound to have a headache. And a t-shirt, because blood stains are soo last year."

Sarah laughs and offers her a genuine smile. "Thank you. I would pay you, but I don't have my wallet."

"You're welcome, and don't worry about it. When I pointed to the TV and told them who it was for, they gave me a discount, and some other people chipped in. I may have even made a little."

Sarah chuckles and captures a tear before it falls. "Well, I appreciate it. Thank you. … Um, why are you here … in the waiting room?"

"My Nana is having gall bladder surgery."

"Well, I hope she makes a speedy recovery." Sarah doesn't know what to say. Gab just isn't one of her gifts. She's trained in over 200 ways to kill people, but talking somebody to death isn't one of them.

"You don't remember me, do you?" the woman asks.

"No, I'm sorry. How do I know you?"

"I'm Lou."

"Lou ... " Sarah draws out the name to get more information.

Lou tries again. "Lou's Deli?"

Sarah furrows her brow.

"Wow, you really don't remember."

"It's nothing personal. I had a head injury a while back …"

"Oh my gosh. Now I'm sorry. … Darn, I could have told you that you owed me a bunch of money."

Sarah laughs.

"I went out with Chuck once or twice, while you guys weren't dating."

"Oh. Lou. Now I remember. Of course. Well, this was really nice of you ... Lou."

"No problem. You once told me that Chuck was a great guy ... not an opinion, but a fact, you insisted. Looks like you both are." Lou leans closer and lowers her voice, "And I had no idea that FDA agents were so tough."

"Oh." Sarah smiles. "We are very tough." _FDA agents?_ "Well, I guess I'll go change. Then maybe people will stop staring at me."

"I doubt that, but you should probably change anyway."

—^v^—

The doctor said it was a miraculous hit: no shattered bones, no damaged organs, no nicks to major arteries or veins. The bullet entered to the right of the lung, above the ribs, and below the clavicle and the subclavian artery and vein. It expanded and broke into several fragments, one of which lodged in the outer wall of the lung. There was significant tissue damage, but considering all the possibilities, Chuck was extremely lucky.

Sarah sits by Chuck's bed, relieved: relieved that he will be fine; relieved to be out of the waiting room; relieved to be with Chuck, even if he's asleep. She can still look at him, touch him, hold his hand.

A moan rises from the bed, and she looks up into gentle, hooded eyes. She surges to her feet, a huge smile spreading across her face. "Hey." She sits on the edge of his bed and runs a hand through his hair.

"Hi." His voice is rusty.

Sarah gives him a spoonful of ice chips. "Better?"

"Mm, much." His eyes search hers. "Are you okay?"

"Chuck, I'm not the one who was shot."

"Exactly." He puts his left hand on her cheek.

Sarah takes his hand and kisses his palm. She lets out a long breath and smiles at him. "I'm fine, now."

"So, tell me what happened, I'm a little foggy on … a lot of it."

She smiles. "You mean I remember something you don't."

He laughs. Then stops abruptly. The color drains from his face, as the pain fills his eyes.

Sarah is on her feet, reaching for the call button, but catching a glimpse of someone in scrubs, in the doorway, she goes to ask for help. "Doctor. Nurse." When she gets into the hallway, whoever it was has vanished. _Strange._

—^v^—

Sarah's phone vibrates. She smiles as she answers the call. "Hey, Ellie."

"Sarah, are you okay? We saw it all on the news. Everybody in the doctor's lounge was glued to the TV. I looked up, and there were your pictures and the bank robbery footage. How's Chuck?"

"I'm fine, Ellie. Chuck has extensive tissue damage from the bullet, which thankfully missed everything major. He's going to be pretty sore for a while, and I see physical therapy in his future, but ultimately he'll be good as new. He woke up for a little bit but went back to sleep, after they gave him more pain meds. Do you want me to wake him?"

"No. No. I'll call tomorrow. If you need me, I can be there. If not, I'll save my days to help you guys move."

"I appreciate it, Ellie, but really, we're fine. We'll just look forward to all being together for the big move."

"Okay. I'll let you go. Love you both."

"Love you, too."

—^v^—

It's 11:00 p.m. And everything is finally about as quiet as it gets at a hospital.

After Ellie called, Mary called to tell her she was proud of them and to make sure they were both okay. A volunteer made several deliveries: a plant from her mom, with a hand drawn card from Molly; flowers and cards from some of the hostages; and a gift certificate from the bank, for one of the nicest restaurants in the city.

Morgan and Alex came to visit and and to bring her their overnight bags from the van. They all ate cheeseburgers together and watched Chuck sleep.

Now, Sarah sits on Chuck's good side with her back to the door, reading a book and nodding off periodically. As the night wears on there's more nodding and less reading. She wakes up from dozing and feels someone watching. She stands up and leans over her husband. She runs a hand through his hair and kisses his forehead, allowing her a surreptitious look at the doorway's reflection in the window. _Another brunette? Seriously?_ A woman in glasses and scrubs watches them from the doorway. She is medium height and wears her hair long with bangs. Sarah immediately, intensely, does not like this woman. Her protective instincts go into overdrive. As she sits back down, she puts a knife within easy reach. She gets Chuck's phone and links it with hers in a video chat. She props her phone in her lap and holds Chuck's phone to her ear as if to make a call. She positions his phone so that it captures the woman's reflection in the window. On the phone in her lap she watches the woman watching them. She snaps a picture.

She "hangs up" Chuck's phone, then sends the picture to Morgan with the text: "Who is she? Is she a threat?"

Morgan texts her back: "Jill Roberts. Was Fulcrum. On the lam. Probably not a threat."

Sarah texts Morgan: "Thanks."

Unwilling to take any risk, Sarah slips the knife into her book and stands up. She straightens Chuck's covers and runs a hand through his hair. Noticing that Jill has left, she moves to the chair on the other side of the bed, with a clear view of the door, and keeps watch over her husband the rest of the night.

—^v^—

"Good morning," a cheery voice blasts Sarah from sleep into full spy alert. Her hand goes to her knife, until she sees the portly aid hustle into the room. _How can anybody be that cheerful at this hour?_ Sarah watches her husband with affection. Through slitted eyes, Chuck tracks the aid's movement from the door to the foot of the bed, where she thumps his breakfast tray on the table.

Then Chuck sees Sarah. He opens his eyes and gives her a sleepy smile. "Mornin, Beautiful."

"Flattery won't do you a bit of good, Mr Bartowski," the aid says with a wry smile.

"Oh, no. I wasn't. I mean, not that you're not … sorry. I was …" Chuck sputters, a blush rising in his cheeks. Sarah swallows her laughter, as she watches her embarrassed husband and the amused aid, who seems to be enjoying his embarrassment immensely.

"Relax. I know you were talking to your wife." She steps to the door and comes back with an extra tray. "I brought her some breakfast, too. Coma-Guy in 312 hasn't touched his breakfast all week. Not much of a breakfast eater, I guess." She shakes with a hearty laugh. "I figure he won't miss it today." She smiles at them and leaves.

Chuck makes room for Sarah on the bed, and she helps him with any two-handed breakfast tasks. He studies her. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Oh, Chuck. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Let's worry about you for a while, hmm?" She plays with his hair.

"Sarah." He captures her right hand with his left and holds it. "I kind of like worrying about you. I even signed up for it as a full time job. It's in the small print that goes with that part about loving you forever, with all my heart." He bends to press his lips to the palm of her hand. His romantic gesture stops short on a groan.

Sarah helps him settle back into his pillow and kisses his cheek. "Fair enough. I am a little tired. I'm not quite over the emotion of everything that happened yesterday … of nearly losing you. But you're going to be fine, so I'm good. And now it's my turn to take care of you." She nudges his leg. "You're not the only one with small print to observe, you know."

The love in his eyes makes her heart skip a beat. "I love you. I just wish I could show you how much."

"Chuck, You show me all the time. Now, can you manage your breakfast, or do you need me to feed you?"

"I can manage, but you owe me a story."

"It's the least I can do." She pinches a piece of his bacon.

"Hey." Chuck gives her a mock pout.

She cocks her head and gives him sweet smile. "Coma-Guy in 312 only got toast and oatmeal." They laugh, his laugh rapidly deteriorating to a grimace.

She winces in empathy. "Okay. Eat your breakfast and no laughing. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember Emmett shoving the phone in my hand and crowning me manager-for-a-day. The next thing I remember is blood and you taking care of me."

"Okay. Well, for starters, the intrepid manager is Edward. Emmett was his brother. The short version is that you saved everybody's life. The long version, and I have to warn you that I'm not the expert story teller that you are, but I'll do my best. The long version goes like this."

Sarah tells Chuck the whole story, from his first phone call from the Cranky Captain Cook to the surprise fifth man. Finally, she gives him a heartbeat by heartbeat account of that last minute. "It was the quickest and longest minute of my life."

Chuck looks at her with a soft smile. "I have two corrections, Sarah."

She crooks an eyebrow.

"First, I love your story telling. And second, it sounds like we were equal partners in the whole saving-everybody's-life part."

"We are good together."

"Yes we are … at lots of things." He wiggles his eyebrows. Her cheeks color, and she throws him a flirtatious smile.

"I have one more story to tell you, Chuck."

"And what story might that be, Mrs Bartowski?"

"Hmm. Let's call it _Goldie Locks and the Three Brunettes._" She raises an eyebrow and pins him with a teasing glare.

"Three brunettes?" He furrows his brow.

"Lou, Hannah, and Jill."

"Oh." He swallows. "_Those_ three brunettes."

"Yeah. As incredible as it sounds, I encountered three of your exes in one day … I think."

"And you'rrre … upset?"

"No, of course not. Couples have exes. I just want to tell you. I can't not tell you. And aside from the bizarro factor of running into all of them on the same day, I have a couple of questions."

"Okay, but first you need to know that I only have three exes, so now you've met them all. And second, you don't need to worry about any ex or anyone else … ever. My heart belongs exclusively to you." He holds up his left hand. "Until death do us part."

"I know." She holds up her left hand and smiles. "Ready?"

He nods.

"Okay. I guess the most interesting thing is that I didn't recognize any of them, but I had a gut feeling about each one."

"Hmm. Just like Ellie said."

"Exactly." Sarah describes each encounter to him: how Hannah made her feel awkward and sad and the odd exchange with her assistant; her pleasant encounter with Lou in the waiting room; and her intense reaction to Jill. "So, I kept a knife handy and tried to keep watch, but I think sleep finally got the better of me."

He puts his hand on her leg. "My ninja lioness protector. That's why you look so tired this morning."

She looks down. "Yeah," she admits in a quiet voice.

"Wow. Well, your reactions make perfect sense and none of it really surprises me. From your description and the way she made you feel, Hannah Michaels is probably Hannah the ex. She would be curious but wouldn't want to chat, so her use of her assistant to get information makes sense. I'm glad she moved on: built a nice life and found someone to share it with.

"Lou was a tiny blip on the radar a very long time ago, so it's unlikely there would be any hard feelings there. I'm really glad she was nice to you.

"And Jill? Well, she was an enemy on two levels. Personally, you disliked her for breaking my heart … multiple times. Professionally, she was a Fulcrum agent and posed a real threat."

"Was Morgan right, or do you think she's still a threat? Should we do any thing?"

"Sarah, I honestly don't think she's a threat. If she were, we would have had trouble from her long before now. I don't know that there's anything to be gained by turning her in, but you're the one who saw her, so it's really your call. I'll back you a hundred per cent, either way."

Sarah nods.

—^v^—

Sarah stands at the door and watches Dr. Bristol pack up her office ... time to run. It's the life of a fugitive. Sarah knows the feeling all too well. She steps into the doorway. "Jill."

"I wondered if you saw me." She stops packing but doesn't turn around. "I hoped not, but I couldn't take the chance."

"I saw your reflection in the window."

Jill faces Sarah and squares her shoulders. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"That depends on you. Chuck and I are retired, so I'm under no obligation to arrest you."

Jill nods.

Sarah leans against the door jamb and folds her arms across her chest. "Why were you watching us?"

"I saw the news. I wanted to see him, know that he was okay. I cared about Chuck … once."

"It wasn't enough, though, was it?"

Jill shakes her head—"no"—and stares into her box. "I made horrible choices, and I live with the consequences and the regrets." Jill looks up and pins Sarah with a penetrating glare. "How about you? Is it enough for you, Agent Walker?"

"Not Agent." Sarah drops her arms to her side and takes a step into the room. "Just Sarah. Sarah Bartowski. And yes. It's more than enough. Chuck is everything to me." The answer comes immediately. She says it without thought or hesitation, and she knows to the depth of her soul that it's true. Chuck is everything to her.

"Then I'm glad he has you. I don't mean either of you any harm."

"I believe you."

"So, are you going to arrest … turn me in?"

"Not here. Not today." Sarah puts her fists on her hips. "But, if you were to come around our home, our family, our children … you and I might have a very different conversation." _Children?_

A look of regret flashes in Jill's eyes, followed by relief. "I understand."

"Good. Now, unpack your boxes. No one will find out where you are from us. I am deadly serious about protecting my family, but I also believe in second chances. So, good luck ... Dr Bristol."

Jill gives her a small but genuine smile. "Thank you ... Mrs Bartowski."

Sarah nods and leaves.

—^v^—

When she walks back into Chuck's room, his face lights up. "Hi Gorgeous."

"Hey, Handsome. Did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah, but you weren't here when I woke up." He tries to pout but can't pull it off. "Where'd you go?"

"I paid a visit to Dr Bristol."

"Is he my doctor?" Chuck looks confused.

"Dr Jill Bristol."

"Ohh, that Dr Bristol."

"Mm-hmm."

"And?"

"And I don't think she's a threat."

"So, what did you decide to do?"

"I told her she was safe as long as she didn't come around our home or our family or children."

Chuck's eyebrows shoot up. "Is, um ... is there something you're not telling me, Sarah?"

"What? … Oh. No. I was just covering our future children in my threat."

His expression turns soft, and his voice is quiet, "You'll make a wonderful mama lioness protector, Sarah."

Sarah's heart swells to the size of Montanna. _Mama lioness protector._ A shy smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "You left out ninja."

"It's in the fine print."

"Good." She gives him a full-blown smile. "Do you suppose there's any room on that bed for me? Being a ninja lioness protector is hard work." He smiles and pats the bed beside him. She helps him scoot over just a little, toes off her shoes, and props up beside him. Just before she drifts off to sleep, she tells him, "I told Jill that I'm deadly serious about protecting my family, but that I also believe in second chances."

"Mm." Chuck squeezes her hand and holds it. "That's my true warrior with a kind and good heart."

—^v^—

"Lunch time," a familiar, friendly voice rings out. Their aid brings in two lunch trays.

Sarah pops off the bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Thank you,"—Sarah glances at her name tag—"Amanda."

"You're welcome. Looks like you're outa here sometime this afternoon, because you're not on my supper delivery. Say you're gonna miss me." Her laughter is musical.

"We're gonna miss you," Chuck says with his best smile and boyish charm.

"Yes, we will," Sarah agrees, "just not the food."

"Fair enough." With that, Amanda is out the door with a wave.

Sarah takes the lids off their plates: roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas, and a fruit cup. Not too bad. As she looks around the room for someplace to set the lids, she notices a large mailing tube. She removes the note taped to the outside and opens it. … "We were right."

Chuck raises his eyebrows. "Care to share with the rest of the class, Sarah?"

"Okay." Sarah reads the note, "Sarah, you left the blueprints—thought you might need them, though I'm sure they're the last thing on your mind right now. I tapped into building security during the robbery. I was shocked, to say the least ... and impressed. Of course I saw you guys on the news, too. Federal Agents. I never saw that one coming. So, I guess Chuck wasn't a mere Nerd Herd supervisor, and you weren't just a yogurt server. The trip to Paris wasn't a home theatre install, and he probably wasn't joking about Dubai. I also assume this is what he couldn't explain about his life. At least now I know what he meant. Anyway, thank you both for what you did in the bank. … Hannah Michaels." Sarah folds the note and watches him.

"Well, I'm glad she finally knows."

"Yeah." She gives him a sympathetic smile. Then she spears a bite of his meat and airlifts it into his mouth.

—^v^—

While the nightly news drones in the background, Sarah gets comfy on one end of the couch and piles pillows in her lap. She raises an eyebrow at Chuck and crooks a finger at him. "Com'ere and take off your shirt."

"Sarah! Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Ahh ... No. If I were trying to seduce you, you'd already be over here." She tilts her head and smiles sweetly. "But I would like to change your bandage."

"Okay. Just watch the chest hairs and don't tickle me, because it still kills me to laugh." Slowly, carefully he lies down on the couch with his head and shoulders in her lap.

"I'll do my best." Her fingers play over his chest, and she runs her hand through his hair. She loses herself in the moment, until his sigh draws her back to her task. Gently, she peels back the bandage and looks at the wound. "Well, I know there's still deeper tissue damage, but the outside looks better, Chuck. The bruising is better. Your purple is a nice shade of yellow, and the bullet hole is healing just fine."

"Mm. That's good." He holds her hand to his chest and closes his eyes. "This is good."

She leans her head back and closes her eyes, idly playing with his hair.

"Carl, I believe you promised us a follow up story to the foiled bank heist in San Diego."

Their eyes pop open, and Sarah helps Chuck sit up, so he can watch the news.

"That's right, Kristy. It's been a week since the Carmichaels captured national attention, when they foiled an armed robbery and saved the lives of thirty-nine hostages. Over the past week, we've gathered additional information and interviewed more people."

"But up until today, the government was being very tight lipped about our heroes, Carl. All we were able to pry from our sources were phrases like legendary, ghosts, and the President's go to team. Finally, late this afternoon, the Director of National Intelligence issued this statement, 'They were very unconventional and a little … high maintenance, but they were, far and away, my best team, often succeeding where all others had failed. The results speak for themselves. They saved presidents, generals, and dignitaries; disarmed nuclear bombs and prevented world wars; brought down arms dealers and terrorists and rogue factions inside the government. They saved my life—and yours—multiple times. Their retirement is the government's loss and the private sector's gain.'"

"High praise, indeed, Kristy. I know we can never see or know about most of what they did, but we are fortunate to have uncovered some other security footage of the Carmichaels in action: one from several months ago in Puerto Rico and one from another foiled bank robbery about a year and a half ago. So, as a tribute to the Carmichaels, we've put together a montage from the security footage. Enjoy and goodnight."

Chuck and Sarah watch from their couch. Sarah points and clicks the TV into silence. They, too, are silent. Stunned. Sarah finally breaks the silence. "So much for secrecy."

"Our cover is blown, Honey." Chuck smiles and shoulder bumps her. "But I'm not sure it really matters, since we're retired."

"I suppose not. Our undercover days are over anyway. And, it won't interfere with Carmichael Industries or keep us from getting government contracts in cyber ops." Sarah's eyes go wide, and she looks at Chuck. "Do you think she did this on purpose … to keep the President off her back and let us really leave the spy world?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Beckman can be clever that way, and I think she has our back. I mean she only spoke in generalities. No secrets were revealed."

"So, our biggest secret, meaning you, is still safe." Sarah sighs. "I guess I'll always worry a little."

"I think that's normal for retired spies, Sarah. But, whenever you're feeling a little worried, I promise to distract you."

She gives him a playful smile. "Oh, you do?"

"I do."

"And how do you propose to distract me?" Her eyes dance with amusement.

He waggles his eyebrows. "Like this." Without thinking Chuck reaches out to cup her cheek and leans over to kiss her. He stops short of his goal with a grunt and a grimace.

Sarah helps him back to a more comfortable position. "Maybe this time I should distract you, hmm?"

He winces. "You think it'll work?"

"Oh, I know it will work. Come on, Mr Bartowski. My distraction chamber is right this way." She helps him ease up off the couch and gently guides him toward the bedroom, where she takes his mind off his pain.


	10. Reunions

**~Reunions ~**

Sarah stares at the ceiling. The room is cloaked in shadows, and all is quiet except for her husband's breathing. She lies next to him, her leg pressed against his. She closes her eyes and wills herself to fall asleep, but her mind refuses to cooperate. Her eyes open against her wishes and look at the clock. Quarter past four … fifteen minutes later than the last time she looked. Sometimes when she awakens in the middle of the night, it's peaceful, and she is content to watch Chuck sleep and let her thoughts roam the landscape of her new life, with wonder and appreciation for the man who has filled it with love and beauty. This morning, though, her thoughts keep sifting through less peaceful things, like the overwhelming roster of things they have to do this week. She sighs inwardly and casts an envious look at Chuck's serene expression. At least one of them is sleeping. Reluctantly she slips out of bed, so as not to wake him.

She props her elbows on the kitchen counter and watches the coffee pot through one eye. Why does it drip the slowest when you want it the fastest?

Fine. She'll shower first. With a yawn she shuffles toward the bathroom.

Finally she sits with her coffee on what she has come to consider her end of the couch. A few sips later, with a little caffeine humming in her veins and her mood somewhat improved, she gets up to peruse the book shelf and returns with an album.

A few pages in, she feels Chuck watching her. She smiles. "I made coffee, if you want some."

"Way ahead of you." The familiar, sleepy voice is right behind her. Chuck joins her on the couch, mug in hand, and props his feet up next to hers on the coffee table. "What are you doing up at this hour, Mrs. I-think-I'm-allergic-to-morning?" He rubs her foot with his and looks at her with his adorable sleepy-face.

"I couldn't sleep." She puts her leg on top of his.

"Noted. What's on your mind?"

"I keep thinking of all the stuff we have to do this week: Ellie and Devon's visit and the move." She sighs.

"Yeeahh. It is a lot." He notices the picture album. "And maybe you've been thinking about your mom?"

"That, too." She nods once and smiles, finally comfortable with his ability to read her so well.

"Why don't you ask her to join us some this week while Ellie and Devon are here?"

"You think she'd want to?"

"Babe, I know she would." Chuck searches her eyes. "But that's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

She looks down and studies her coffee.

"Sarah ..." He turns her face back toward his. "You know, I don't get up at this hour for anybody else."

The love in his eyes breaks the dam, and her words spill out, "Chuck, I want to, but I don't know where to start or what to say. I mean, things were always … complicated. Then the baby, and I thought I would never see her again. And then ..."—she smiles and runs her hand over the album—"well, I know we reconnected. And I'm really glad, but I barely remember it ... along with large chunks of my life since I handed her a baby and told her I could never see her again. I don't know what she knows or how she feels. So, what do I say, 'Mom, I'd love to have lunch and catch up, but an evil man used top secret technology to erase my memories, so I can't really tell you very much.'?"

"Something like that." Chuck makes her laugh. He presses his lips to her temple and wraps his arms around her. She curls into him, and he rests his head on hers.

"With your family it's easy," she murmurs into his shirt.

"Because they already know."

She nods.

He holds her for a while, stroking her back, then says in a quiet voice, "Then let us help you."

"How?"

"Well, I can be with you when you tell her or help you tell her and answer questions. Or I can tell her, so you don't have to. And Ellie, well, Ellie would love to tell her stories about you, about us. Moms love that kind of thing. I'll even suffer the embarrassment of some of Ellie's Chuck stories, so you and your mom can be entertained at my expense." He gives her a squeeze.

She chuckles. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything." She sits up and raises her eyes to his. "For always making the impossible seem simple."

"You did the same for me, Sarah. That's how this works. At least that's what a very wise woman once told me." He takes the photo album and opens it. "Besides, did you see anything in these pictures that looked complicated?"

She sits cross legged, one knee propped on his leg. "No," she says with a shy smile and half a shrug.

Chuck puts his hand on the album. "Sarah, do you remember any of this, or just the pictures?"

She looks down. "Mostly the pictures."

"Okay, close your eyes and let me give you more details than I did the first time." Sarah leans her head back and closes her eyes. "Comfy?" Chuck asks.

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay. After Ryker, we raced—and I mean that literally—from your mom's to our apartment, and you hurried through the front door and paused when you saw your mom. She was looking up at our wedding picture, the one on the top shelf. When she saw you, her face was a kaleidoscope of relief and disbelief and happiness. Then you hugged her. I couldn't see your face, but I heard the emotion in your voice when you said, 'I missed you.' She held you tight and said, 'I know.' Then she introduced you to Molly."

"As her sister." Sarah smiles, feeling a surge of relief.

"You remember?"

"Mm-hmm. Like the other stories, as you tell it." She sits up and looks at him. "Wait, I said, 'I missed you,' and my mom said, 'I know.'?"

"Yeah. Is that significant?"

"Well, just that it's backwards. Mom always said, 'I miss you,' and I never knew what to say, so I always said, 'I know.'"

"Hmm." Chuck stares into his coffee cup. "Want to know what I think?" he said without looking up.

"What?" she asks with timid curiosity.

He looks at her. "I think you and your mom connected over saving the baby. When you took the baby to your mom and asked her to give the baby all the things she had always wanted to give you … I think that your relationship started to heal."

Sarah swallows the lump in her throat. "How did you get to be so articulate this early in the morning."

"I've had practice." He gives her a cryptic smile. "You know, your mom thanked me for giving you a normal life. She loves you, Sarah, and she's happy that you're happy."

Sarah smiles, feeling a mix of hope and relief.

"It's going to be okay. Trust me."

"I do trust you, Chuck. Completely."

"Good." He cups her cheek and kisses her, slowly making her forget all stress and worry. Slowly she lets everything go and relaxes into the kiss.

Chuck pulls her up off the couch. "Come on. It's too early to call your mom, and packing can wait. You need to get some more sleep."

"You kiss me like that and then expect me to sleep?"

"Eventually." He scoops her up in his arms and carries her back to bed.

**Wednesday**

Chuck and Sarah sit at a table in front of their favorite deli on the mall, near CI. Later that afternoon Ellie and Devon will arrive from Chicago. The entire extended Bartowski clan, minus Casey, will meet at CI for a tour of their new space. Meanwhile, Sarah's mom will join them for lunch, so Chuck and Sarah can read her into the Bartowski story.

Having arrived ahead of schedule, Chuck and Sarah enjoy lattes together and their last peaceful moments before the coming Bartowski bedlam: family gatherings, activities, and the big move into their house. They look forward to the week with equal parts excitement and dread. Meanwhile, Chuck is distracting Sarah from her butterflies with the hilarious tale of Devon's cover story to Ellie after his brief foray into the spy world. Sarah almost spews coffee all over the table. "A bear?" Soon she's shaking with laughter over Chuck's hand signals and Devon's growing lie and the decapitated bear. "He would make a terrible spy."

Sarah is so distracted she doesn't notice her mom watching them from a discreet distance with a smile on her face. Chuck notices her first and gives Sarah a quick heads up in his best ventriloquist voice, "Sarah, don't freak out." Sarah follows Chuck's gaze and sees her mother approaching. She corrals her butterflies, as much as one can corral butterflies, and gets up to give her mom a hug. "I'm glad you could come," she says, meaning it.

Chuck stands to greet her and gets a hug, as well. Emma smiles her thanks to Chuck as she sits in the chair he pulls out for her. She takes a sip of water and makes small talk about the beautiful day and the fabulous location. Then she looks at them with a big smile and says, "So, how's the house coming?"

Chuck and Sarah look at each other brows furrowed. Sarah speaks first, "How did you know about the house? We were going to surprise you."

Emma looks back and forth between them, baffled. "Honey, you told me about the house."

Sarah looks at her mom,—"I did?"—and Chuck looks at Sarah. "She did?"

Emma looks even more perplexed. "Well ... yes. I called to say hi and left a voice mail. When you returned my call, you told me about buying a house and designing the kitchen and picking out appliances. You sounded really happy about it. You don't remember?"

The "R" word takes Sarah by surprise and tears sting her eyes. She blinks them back and looks at Chuck. His eyes reassure her. Turning to Emma, who seems to realize she said something wrong, Chuck gives her the same, reassuring look and asks, "When was this Emma?"

"Well ... let's see." Emma looks out at the lake for a moment and then back at Chuck and Sarah again. "It was the Saturday before Valentine's Day. I remember, because I was baking Valentine cupcakes with Molly."

Chuck looks at his calendar. "Ah, that explains it," he says, as if it does. Both Sarah and her mom quirk an eyebrow and cock their heads with twin expressions of curiosity. Chuck's eyes widen. "Wow. Do you … that is just …" Their brows rise in unison. He opens his mouth and closes it, as he looks from his mother-in-law to his wife. "That was the day we interrogated Bo Derek." He grins.

Emma and Sarah look at him like he's grown a second head.

Chuck's nervous laugh is accompanied by the color rising in his cheeks. Sarah crosses her arms and pins him with a decidedly Sarah Bartowski, spill-it-now-or-else look. Emma is still confused, but clearly amused by the interplay between her daughter and son-in-law.

"Anyway," Chuck squeaks. He takes a sip of coffee and clears his throat. "Sarah, that was part of our one last mission. Bo Derek turned out to be one of Quinn's operatives. The day after that was the shoot-out in the Vail Buymore. And the day after that, I was taken. You never got the chance to tell me."

Sarah nods. "Makes sense." She leans back appraising him. "But you owe me a story." She smirks.

"Deal." Chuck notices Emma's bewildered expression. "Emma, there are a lot of things we want to tell you, and it may take a while. Since most of it is … well, sort of ..."

"classified." Sarah finishes the sentence for him.

"Yeah, that. We thought we would grab some lunch and eat in our office. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," Emma agrees with a smile and a shrug.

Lunch in hand, the threesome ride the elevator up to the client level of Carmichael Industries. As the glass elevator emerges from its dark passage into the open space of CI and continues to rise above the IT floor, Emma's mouth drops open. They get off at the second floor, and she continues to take in the whole space.

Emma looks at Sarah and Chuck, wide eyed. "You work here? This is your company?"

Chuck puts his hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Emma, your very amazing daughter designed this entire space," he says in a voice that betrays his considerable pride.

Emma beams. "Honey, it's beautiful."

Her mother's praise evokes a smile. And a feeling Sarah can't quite define. "Thanks. But Mom, Chuck designed all the building's technology. Your son-in-law is sort of a genius. He drew the schematics, laid the cable, and hooked up that massive computer. He writes brilliant software and owns his own satellite."

Her mother is dazed. "I don't know what to say. I'm very impressed … with both of you."

They walk up to the private third floor and eat overlooking the park.

Chuck looks at Sarah and raises his eyebrows. She nods. Emma watches the exchange.

"Mom, right after I left the baby, Molly, with you, I came to Burbank. Through highly classified technology, Chuck had come into a sort of unique and exclusive possession of government secrets. The combination of the technology and the Intel made him the most important Intelligence asset in the world. An NSA agent and I were assigned to his protection full time. That was the beginning of Team Bartowski, the team you heard about on the news.

"Chuck and I fell in love, but government constraints on handler/asset relationships made things very … complicated. After Chuck became an agent, we dated, moved in together, and married a year later.

"Chuck's code name was Charles Carmichael, hence the name of the company and the references on the news. Unfortunately, not long after you called, I suffered head trauma, which caused me to forget the five years of my life prior to the trauma. I'm still hazy on a lot of it, so Chuck is going to fill in the details. … That's why I don't remember our phone conversation."

Her mother looks stricken. "Five years. That means you forgot ..."

"Chuck and all of my time here."

"Oh, Honey." Tears well in her eyes.

A sympathetic tear tracks down Sarah's cheek, and just like that, Chuck has two teary women on his hands. He schools his panic face and scrambles to say something positive. "Emma, you told me that Sarah was always a tough little thing. Well, she still is."—He smiles at this wife.—"She fought to get her life back, and together we've done just that."

"Yeah, Mom. The story has a happy ending … thanks to Chuck."

Chuck and Sarah had decided that Emma had more than earned the right to know the Bartowski legacy and their story, so he tells her a condensed version of all of it: his father's invention, his upload as a child, and his college roommate's email; Sarah coming to protect him, their spy venture, and their love story; and finally, the story of the corrupt Intersect that erased Sarah's memories. He omitts the part about his last upload.

"Mom." Sarah smiles at Emma. "Don't freak out. I know it's overwhelming, but for so long, Chuck and I have kept secrets from our families, and we don't want that any more."

"'Overwhelming' is a bit of an understatement, but thank you." She looks at both of them. "I'm glad—honored—that you told me."

Chuck gives her a gentle smile. "You're family, Emma, we wanted you to know."

She smiles, and turns to her daughter. "Thank you." Emma looks at her watch. "Oh my, I need to pick up Molly." She hugs them goodbye, promising to return with Molly.

—^v^—

Chuck and Sarah bring Ellie and Devon up on the elevator. Their reaction is just like Emma's, except in stereo. "Bro, this is …" Devon sweeps his eyes around the second floor and stares down at the IT floor and the huge computer on the far wall. "… Awesome."

"Seriously, Chuck ... Sarah, this is just … wow." Ellie beams with pride. "You're both pretty amazing, you know that." She grabs them in a tight Ellie hug, an arm around each of them.

Devon puts Clara down, and Clara toddles over to Sarah and reaches up toward her. Sarah squats down and smiles at her niece. "Hi, Clara. Look at you, walking everywhere." Sarah picks up Clara. Then Chuck scoops up Clara and puts her on his shoulders, where she seems content to stay, with her hands fisted in Chuck's hair. Sarah watches Chuck with Clara, and Ellie watches Sarah watch Chuck.

Morgan leads the tour starting with the IT floor. "Alex and I call this the dance floor, for reasons that will become apparent later." He smiles at his own private joke. Chuck and Sarah look at each other. She raises an eyebrow, and he shrugs. Then their eyes widen in understanding.

After everyone oohs and ahhs effusively over Sarah's design and Chuck's genius throughout the building, the grand tour ends in the sitting area on the third floor.

Ellie looks around in awe at the views and the glass roof and offices. "Guys, all this glass is so gorgeous, but what do you do if you want privacy?" Ellie asks in all innocence.

"Yeah, Sarah, what were you thinking?" Devon asks, winking at them. "This could be a major problem when you two want to ..."—He catches Sarah's glare and follows her gaze to Emma and Molly.—"have a private meeting with a client." Devon finishes with a nervous laugh.

Ellie rolls her eyes. Morgan and Alex snicker. Sarah blushes, and Emma struggles to keep a straight face.

"Actually, Devon," Chuck informs him, "it's smart glass, so our love life is safe, thank you."

"What's smart glass?" Emma asks.

Chuck gets out his phone and swipes the screen. "Smart glass changes states when it receives and electrical charge." Chuck taps his phone, and the glass around Chuck and Sarah's office turns opaque, like frosted glass.

"Wow. I'm officially impressed." Ellie stares at the office. "Again." Emma looks at her and nods.

A _Mission Impossible_ ringtone, interrupts the conversation. It's the intercom, which Sarah answers from her phone, "… Okay, I'll be right down." She pockets her phone. "Guys, the food is downstairs. I'll be right back."

Sarah runs down the steps to the second floor and heads for the elevator. The door slides open, revealing a tall figure and an armload of delivery boxes stacked up high enough to hide his face. Sarah reaches for her knife. "This is a private elevator. Who are you, and how did you get up here."

"Easy, Walker. Put your knife away," a muffled voice says from behind the boxes.

She knits her brow. The man lowers the boxes.

Sarah's smile is automatic. "John."

Casey gives a soft grunt.

A woman with short, dark hair steps from behind him and takes the boxes. He walks off the elevator, and Sarah gives her old partner and friend a hug.

He studies her. "You remember?"

"Enough to know you're my friend."

He gives her a small smile and a nod.

She turns to the woman. "And you're ... Gertrude … or Verbanski?"

Gertrude looks at Casey, then extends a hand to Sarah. "Gertrude's fine."

Sarah shakes her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm still a little foggy on some things," she explains, "lots of things, I guess."

"From what I hear, Sarah, you've done great. Better than great." Casey says with a gentle look.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Morgan and Alex."

"Oh, right. Well, everybody will be thrilled to see you. We're all upstairs."

Casey looks around. "Little bearded man was right. This is some place you two put together. Congratulations." Gertrude nods her agreement.

"Thanks. I'm sure Morgan will be happy to give you a tour of the place." She heads toward the stairs. "And your office," she tosses over her shoulder, with a smile.

Casey's eyes go wide, and he lets out a surprised grunt.

Sarah leads the way upstairs, and Casey follows with the boxes covering his face, as before. Gertrude trails behind.

"Okay, everybody, come help with the boxes," Sarah calls out, then stands back to watch, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Chuck and Ellie and Emma hurry over to help. Chuck takes the top box. His eyes widen. "Caseey. What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, Bartowski." He gives Chuck half a smile.

Ellie's eyes go wide as she takes the next box. "John!" Her voice carries to the far corners of the room, if not the known universe.

Morgan and Alex run toward them. Emma quickly snatches the last box and gets out of the way, just before Alex hurtles herself toward Casey, who catches her in a big Russian hug.

After Alex moves, Casey gets welcome hugs from everyone. Sarah observes her mom's smile of approval and Gertrude's look of panic. She leans toward Gertrude, speaking to her more from what she knows in her heart than what she remembers in her head, "It grows on you."

"Good to know." Gertrude looks shell-shocked.

After the great distribution of hugs, Casey notices Molly looking up at him. He crouches down to her level. "Hi, Molly. I think you've gotten bigger since the last time I saw you."

"You, too, Mr. Colonel." Molly gives him a timid smile.

With a soft grunt, Casey opens his arms, and Molly shyly leans into his hug.

Chuck speaks first, "So, Casey, what brings you back. Not that we're not glad, because we are."

Casey looks at Morgan and Alex. "The mission in Russia is over, and I thought I'd like to see my daughter and check on her boyfriend." He smiles at Alex and narrows his eyes at Morgan.

"Okay, everybody." Ellie takes charge. "Let's get the food on the table. We can talk while we eat."

Molly puts her plate on the coffee table and climbs onto a couch next to her sister. Sarah helps her with her drink and her plate, and Emma smiles at her two girls sitting side by side, smiling and talking about their favorite foods.

Chuck joins her for a beat, and the two of them share a smile. Then Chuck sits on the other side of Molly, and Emma takes a seat near Ellie.

Everyone has news to share. Ellie and Devon tell Clara stories and pass around pictures of their new house: a restored turn-of-the-century, two-story house, with four bedrooms and a fenced yard. "So, we have lots of room for all of you to visit." Ellie offers a blanket invitation.

Casey admits that Russia has lost some of its appeal. He looks at Alex. "It's a nice place for a short term mission, but I think I'll pass on permanent assignment." Then Casey looks at Chuck with a hint of admiration. "Plus, as impressive as Bartowski was in that bank job, I can't let him have all the fun. Getting shot and nearly blown up is my job. Except defusing bombs. That's all Chuck."

Ellie and Emma look horrified. Sarah glances toward her office, making sure that Molly is still playing a game on the computer.

"And speaking of your job, Casey,"—Chuck raises his eyebrows and gives his friend a hopeful smile—"it's still waiting for you."

"I'll let you know after I see my office." Chuck and Sarah smile, already knowing he'll love his office.

"Hey speaking of getting shot," Devon speaks up, "you were really lucky, Bro. A couple of centimeters in either direction, and you would have been in serious trouble. The doctor on the news called it a miracle hit."

Morgan shrugs and absently remarks, "Yeah, a _calculated_ miracle." His eyes go round. Chuck and Sarah and Casey glare at him. Casey growls under his breath, "Quiet, Moron."

Ellie narrows her eyes at Chuck and purses her lips. Devon sits back, a look of realization on his face. "Oh no."

"Dessert anyone?" Morgan covers.

"That's a great idea." Chuck jumps up. "You know there are some definite perks, leasing to the Cheesecake Factory."

On her way to the dessert table, Ellie corners Chuck and Sarah. "When were you going to tell me?"

"This week, Sis, I promise. We want to tell you everything."

"Okay. I guess things have been kind of crazy for all of us. But this week, we catch up."

"Absolutely, Ellie," Sarah reassures her sister-in-law. Chuck nods.

The rest of the evening passes with laughter and conversation and the consumption of much cheesecake.

Eventually, Morgan clinks his glass with his spoon to get everybody's attention. "Tomorrow, you are all invited as special guests to the Bartowski's private opening night of Carmichael's Spy Café, formerly known to you as Castle."

Everyone breaks into applause for Morgan's new restaurant and the honor of being the first diners in a restaurant that holds so much meaning for Clan Bartowski.

"Now before you go, Alex and I have put together a short documentary/video in honor of Chuck and Sarah and the building of the CI offices. You have to see it to believe it, because the transformation is just … well, see for yourself."

The sixty inch flat screen comes to life with an instrumental intro and "before" pictures of the empty brick shell with nothing but two levels of catwalks. Everyone gasps at the stark contrast to the stunning space they just toured. Chuck and Sarah are taken by complete surprise. They turn to each other and whisper in unison, "Did you know about this?" They shake their heads.

_Better Together_ plays, _[There is no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard and no song that I could sing,]_ as black and white pictures tell the story, _[but I can try because this is your heart and this is our dreams,]_ beginning with pictures of Chuck and Sarah suspended in the middle of their space, walking the catwalk or sitting on it, pointing and talking, smiling and laughing.

_[and they are made out of real things.]_ A picture of Chuck behind Sarah, one arm wrapped around her and the other pointing down to the bare concrete floor, now the IT floor _[Love is the answer at least for most of the questions in my heart: like why are we here? And where do we go?]_ fades into a photo of Sarah leaning back against Chuck, one arm resting on his and the other pointing to the empty space now a state-of-the-art, glass conference room. _[And how come it's so hard? It's not always easy.]_ The picture morphs, and Sarah has turned in Chuck's arms enough to plant a kiss on his jaw, _[I'll tell you one thing:]_ then dissolves into one of Chuck and Sarah forehead to forehead, their arms circled around each other. _[It's so much better when we're together.]_

Ellie and Emma are wiping tears. Even Casey is smiling.

An instrumental interlude plays through the transformation of the building: Chuck and Morgan laying cable; Sarah directing various work crews; Chuck hooking up the computer and all of the work stations; and Sarah and Alex arranging the offices and going over the books.

The last series of pictures shows Chuck and Sarah in work boots, jeans, and tank tops, armed with nail guns, and laying the raised IT floor. As each picture fades into the next, another section of floor is finished, and the still pictures gradually saturate with color, until they finally segue to video. Chuck and Sarah admire their handiwork and lay down their nail guns.

_[Well it's so much better when we're together]_

Sarah zones out, no longer watching the video, but remembering the moment.

_~^~^~  
>After setting down her nail gun, she hears music and looks up. Chuck stretches out his hand. "It would be a shame to waste such a great dance floor." She flashes him a smile and takes his hand. As the music plays, they cover every section of the new IT floor. Finally, he spins her out and pulls her back, catching her in his arms. She is breathless. He smiles and dips her to the floor, one of her work boots rising in the air. She laughs as he kisses her neck and pulls her back up, circling his arms around her waist. She loses herself in his eyes and the joy of the moment.<br>~^~^~_

The video stops on that image. _[I will still tell you one thing: we're better together. We're so much better when we're together]_

There are smiles on every face and a few tears. Applause erupts, and a feeling of love and happiness settles over the room, not so much for the transformation of a building, but for the rebuilding of a life and love's triumph over tragedy.

—^v^—

Sarah walks Emma and Molly to their car, and Emma hugs her older daughter. "This has been a wonderful day. I really enjoyed the Bartowski clan. Thank you for including me."

Sarah nods. "I'm glad you came."

Emma turns to get in the car.

"Mom? ... You're welcome to join us for the rest of the week: dinner tomorrow, the big move and the Labor Day barbeque. I mean, I'd like for you to come ... if you can or want to." Sarah looks down then back at Emma.

"I'd love to, Honey. We'll be there for as much of it as we can."

Sarah smiles. "Great."

As Sarah watches the tail lights disappear, Chuck comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her. "I think that went well."

"Me, too." Sarah leans against him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." He kisses her cheek. "Ellie and Awesome have already headed to our old place, and we, Mrs. Bartowski, will spend our first night in our new house, in our new bed."

"Mm. It was a good idea, Chuck, to let Ellie and Devon have our apartment and our old bed until we move it with the other furniture on Friday."

"Well, it gives them an actual bed to sleep on, instead of an air matress."

"And it gives us two nights alone before our house becomes a hostel."

"Honey, please. Our house is not a hostel," Chuck says with mock indignation.

"Fine ... auberge."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Yeah, but it sounds classier."

—^v^—

Chuck's hands work their magic on her neck and shoulders … her back. He has perfected this whole massage thing to an exquisite art, of which she is the sole collector.

=—=—=

He had insisted on drawing her a bath to help her relax from a socially tiring day ... said he wanted to make this a memorable and romantic first night in her dream home. How did she ever get so lucky? When she got out of the bath, the glow of candlelight and soft music set the mood for romance.

=—=—=

He cracks her neck, and she melts deeper into the mattress. She tries to stay awake. She hears a soft moan, then realizes that it came from her. "Chuck" she mumbles into the pillow. _This is better than sss … _what is it she's supposed to say_ …_ _better than_ ...

She feels his lips on her cheek. "I love you, Sarah."

"Hm-mmm ..." _Love you, too._


	11. Ground Zero

**~ Ground Zero ~**

**Thursday, August 30, 2012**

With a long, lazy stretch, Sarah opens her eyes, her body still relaxed and her mood … peacefully euphoric, thanks to Chuck's massage and a wonderful night's sleep. She takes in her new surroundings. It's different waking up here. Really quiet. She settles back into her pillow observing the different angle of morning light coming through the window and the view of blue sky instead of the courtyard. Nice. She smiles, just thinking about where she is. Outside that window is a fenced back yard, just like she always imagined. Around front, there's a red door and a white picket fence, just like she always imagined. Inside is a cozy, simple life and a real home, with a man who loves her, as she loves him, more than she could've ever imagined.

Come to think of it, that man owes her the second half of her massage. Her sense of euphoria is redirected toward finishing last night's romantic evening.

**Opening Night**

As they head out the door for Clan Bartowski's premiere evening at Carmichael's Spy Café, Devon's phone rings. "Hi mom..." Ellie rolls her eyes. "What a surprise ..." _They're here_ he mouths. "No. No, I didn't know there was an AMA convention in town … Yeah, what a coincidence." Ellie rolls her eyes. Again. "Well, we sort of have special plans tonight … last night, huh? Hang on." He puts the phone to his chest. "They're here and want to meet for dinner. What do I tell them?"

Chuck looks at Ellie and does what Bartowskis do: "Tell them you can't miss this dinner and ask them to meet us at the old Orange Orange. I know Morgan won't mind, and by now the proverbial spy cat is out of the bag anyway … and running all over the country."

It's settled. Woody and Honey, will join the Bartowski clan for dinner. "Babe, don't worry. It'll be fine." Devon tries to convince Ellie.

"Yeah, Ellie, I'm sure it will be okay. And if worst comes to worst, Chuck always carries a tranque pistol," Sarah says the last part in collusive tones. As Ellie laughs, Devon's smile fades. He raises an eyebrow, and snaps his head in Chuck's direction.

—^v^—

Morgan opens the doors for Clan Bartowski, and perhaps the most diverse combination of parents, ever gathered in such a small group of people. Except for Molly and Clara, everyone related to TeamB is there, even Big Mike and Bolonia. As they enter the familiar haunt, their expressions range from appreciation to pleasant surprise to incredulity to outright shock. The small space has been completely redone to look like a European sidewalk café. The back wall looks like the exterior of a café, complete with awnings. The door of the faux café leads downstairs to the restaurant part of Carmichael's. The fast food counter is gone, replaced by more tables against a mural of a narrow cobblestone street, and in the center of the front window is a small fountain, surrounded by flowers. "Wow, Morgan. This is great," Ellie speaks for everyone.

Morgan steps up on a chair. "Welcome, everybody, to Carmichael's Spy Café, formerly the Orange Orange, formerly the Wienerliscious, both part of a CIA/NSA cover for one of the country's most successful Black Ops Teams. The restaurant is a reminder of those years and a tribute to the spies and the work that was done here."

Sarah chuckles to herself at Big Mike, shaking his head and muttering, "Chuck Bartowski, a spy. I still don't believe it. It does explain my fish, though."

Morgan leads them down into the former Castle, showing off the hand scanner that Chuck created using an ordinary office scanner and his modified finger print app. To gain entrance to the restaurant, diners register their palm prints for the evening, or permanently if they prefer, with a favorite spy handle. Morgan demonstrates, placing his palm on the scanner. The glass door slides open and a computerized female voice says, "Welcome, Agent Cobra. The Director is expecting you."

"Dude, that's awesome!" Devon registers his palm print as Six Pack, and convinces Ellie to register as Hot Mama. Ellie complies with much eye rolling. Sarah explains as much as she can to Emma, and Chuck picks up where Sarah's memory leaves off. Emma and Sarah laugh together at the escapades of Hot Mama and Six Pack.

As Chuck and Sarah wander over to talk to Casey and Gertrude, Mary approaches Emma and introduces herself, "You must be Emma. I'm Mary, Chuck's mom."

Emma shakes Mary's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mary."

"And you," Mary says as the two woman watch their children. "You should be very proud of her, you know. She's one of the strongest, most amazing women I've ever known."

"She is, isn't she? I'm very impressed with your son, too." Emma says in reply.

"They're good for each other," Mary says thoughtfully.

"Which makes them good for us," Emma says, and the two women share a smile.

The restaurant retains much of the original look of Castle. The armory is still in place, enclosed in glass. Except, of course, the guns are fake. Flat screens surround the large central area, with dining tables where the work stations once stood. The holding cells and interrogation rooms, have been converted into dining areas of various sizes. Some still look like holding cells, complete with sliding glass doors and flat screens for showing the party's spy movie of choice. The larger rooms are decorated to look like intimate dining areas overlooking international cities.

The hallway is lined with mock redacted mission reports recapping some of TeamB's accomplishments.

Behind a soundproof glass wall is a room with arcade and video games. _Rush_ music plays in that room, and Missile Command occupies the most prominent location, with posters on either side depicting the Carmichael/Tom Sawyer legend.

The flat screens in the central area run loops of clips pulled from security footage that captured some of TeamB's best exploits: One video shows all the recent news footage. Another shows what they nicknamed the vertigo video: Chuck's head-first plunge off the top of a building, Casey's spectacular save, and Sarah's awesome battle with the imposing Mr Colt; Casey and Chuck's fall from the hotel balcony into the swimming pool, Sarah and Casey parachuting off a building, and other aerial adventures from the Sasha Banachek case and the Tyler Martin case. A third video loops the amusing heist of a museum mask, the nerve-wracking theft of a tiger's collar, and exterior and interior security footage from an out-of-the-way Swiss café. The last video runs footage of a runway fight during fashion week in Milan, a warehouse ambush with Sarah's awesome takedown of fifteen armed men, and a YouTube video of a pit fight in Thailand.

All the non-spies in the room stare at the screens wide-eyed and slack-jawed, their stunned silence broken from time to time with laughter, gasps, or the occasional expletive or comment. Devon is the most vocal with a running commentary of the degrees of awesomeness or insanity of each moment. Ellie and Emma sit next to each other, vacillating between pride and trauma. Woody and Honey wear looks of shock and awe: Honey, the shock and Woody, the awe. Big Mike just shakes his head, "So that's what happened to that banner."

The evening is a huge hit. Everyone wishes Morgan and Carmichael's every success, and they all leave raving about the décor, the entertainment, and the wonderful international cuisine.

**Moving Day**

Friday morning, all able bodied helpers report for duty at Casa Bartowski, and the parade of boxes begins. Sarah pauses to watch Mary and Gertrude direct the loading of the truck and boss Morgan here and there with the boxes. Sarah snickers. _That should be interesting._ The furniture follows the boxes, and by noon the truck is loaded and ready to roll.

The youngest members of the team need a break, so the grandmas call it a day. Emma and Molly promise to return on Saturday, and Mary takes a tuckered Clara for a weekend with Grandma.

The Bartowski caravan makes it to its destination, and the parade reverses itself. The furniture enters its new home; then boxes are hauled to their designated rooms.

After the furniture is more or less in place and the bare essentials have been dug out of various boxes, Sarah and Ellie dig for Sarah's recipe book. In the end, Ellie insists on Sizzling Shrimp for the first family dinner in Nueva Casa Bartowski.

—^v^—

Finally, it's just Chuck and Sarah and Ellie and Devon, crashed in the living room with after dinner coffee and a pile of fortune cookies. Devon is fading fast.

Ellie pins Chuck with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, Little Brother, you want to tell me about the Intersect, that evidently wasn't destroyed with Quinn?"

"Well, yeah, okay. There's not that much to tell. It's pretty much like we told everyone, except for the little detail that Quinn was actually killed _before_ he got the chance to put on the glasses. With Quinn dead, the only information to disarm the bomb was in the Intersect, so I uploaded it."

"He had to, Ellie," Sarah continues, "to save Morgan and Casey and Beckman and all those people ... and us."

"I get it, Chuck, I do. With great power comes great responsibility." Ellie smiles at them.

"Ooo, a Peter Parker quote, Sis. I'm impressed."

"Yeah." Ellie smiles at him. "Or Voltaire or Churchill."

"Or them." Chuck grins and slaps his palm to his forehead.

Sarah laughs at the sibling banter and rolls her eyes for Ellie's benefit.

"So, does it feel any different, give you headaches, any problems?" Ellie slips into doctor/Intersect mode.

"No. In fact, I wanted to ask you about that. It feels smoother, faster, more … I don't know … organic?" Chuck explains.

"Also," Sarah adds, "Chuck seems to retain more. When I train him in a new fighting skill, he flashes on it, and then it's like he actually learns it. The same with information, if he reads it, he knows it."

Ellie smiles. "Then the Intersect you uploaded contains all my changes, which make the Intersect integrate more smoothly with the brain ... to be the teaching tool Dad created it to be. The Intersect is like a little brain, inside your brain. But because the first generations were designed by an engineer and not a neurologist, it worked more like a computer than a brain, and that created compatibility issues."

"That's why Dad gave it to you."

Ellie smiles. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, the Intersect uploads itself into its own self-contained area of the brain. The human brain consolidates, or stores information differently than a computer. When the human brain retrieves information or memories, it re-consolidates them, or rewrites them to both the original location _and_ backup locations. Before when you flashed, the Intersect retrieved information from its database, and when it tried to reconsolidate or rewrite it to your brain, it put dangerous levels of stress on your brain."

"Because it wasn't compatible. Like my brain was constantly transcoding or reformatting data."

"Yeah. That's a workable analogy. As far as reconsolidating _skills_ to your brain, it didn't work at all, which is why you had to flash every time you needed to use a skill, like karate. So, I reprogrammed the Intersect to store information and skills the same way your brain does. My changes made the Intersect work not only _with_ the brain but _like_ the brain. Now, when information or a particular skill is retrieved from the Intersect, it is seamlessly written to the proper areas of your brain. No transcoding necessary. That's why you remember new skills, without having to flash every time. Because they're stored in your brain and not just in the Intersect. Of course, physical training can only improve your body's ability to execute your brain's instructions." Ellie smiles at Sarah and finishes her coffee.

"Wow. I think I actually understood that," Sarah says with a look of amazement.

"So, El, on the yacht, the Intersect, or my brain—after a while I couldn't tell which—ran finger prints. Does my brain know how to do that now?"

"You should have seen it, Ellie, it was amazing." Sarah beams with pride.

"That's incredible." Ellie says. "Well, I don't know about running it against a database, without the help of the Intersect, but comparing two fingerprints visually, yes, and probably with computer-like accuracy. As for absorbing information, the Intersect is just boosting your brains innate ability to do that. According to everything we know, from Professor Fleming and your first upload, your brain is exceptional at absorbing, processing, and retaining information. However, the Intersect will make all your brain functions more efficient."

"Like a multi-core processor." Chuck teases.

"I suppose you could put it like that."

"What about the governor?" Sarah asks. "Would it need to be different?"

"Oh, Sarah, good question." Chuck smiles and bumps her shoulder.

"If it was designed to work with the 2.0, it won't work with this one," Ellie says. "You probably don't need it. In fact, the governor may even interfere. I say go without it, and see what happens."

Sarah instantly feels better about the Intersect, at least with regards to its effect on Chuck's health.

Ellie nudges Devon. "Devon, Honey. Wake up."

Devon dry washes his face and sits up. "Yeah, Bro, what were you thinking uploading the Intersect again?"

The other three smile, holding in their laughter, and Devon says, "Did I miss something?"

"Ellie, why don't you take Captain Awesome, here, to bed. Sarah and I are going to turn in, too."

"See you in the morning, and thank you so much for all your help." Sarah hugs Ellie and Devon.

Chuck hugs his sister and fist bumps Devon. "Night, Sis. It's great to have you here. ... You, too, Captain."

**Unboxing Day**

A quick breakfast of yogurt, fruit, and cereal fuels the workers for Unboxing Day, as Sarah dubbed it.

Casey opted out of unboxing, because there were no guns to unpack, but he said he'd be back Sunday for big screen sports and Ellie's pot roast dinner.

Morgan and Devon unpack the living room boxes, and assist—meaning watch—Chuck set up the entertainment center/home theatre. First things first. Labor Day weekend sports start tomorrow.

While Emma and Molly set up the linen closet, Ellie and Sarah organize the kitchen. Ellie finishes putting away the dishes and the glasses and watches her sister-in-law finish off her last box of pots and pans. "Sarah, I've wanted to ask you about your memories, are any more of them returning ... other than the big ones you told me about before I left?"

"Yes, not spontaneously so much, but when Chuck tells me a story I often remember things as he tells them."

"Like a movie you only remember as it goes along?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"I've had other patients tell me the same thing. It's a start."

"I know." Sarah sighs.

"Don't be discouraged, Sarah. You're recovery so far is nothing short of remarkable." Sarah nods. "But how do you feel about it?"

Emma knocks on the door frame. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," she says apologetically, "but Molly is testing a video game with Morgan, and I wanted to get some water. I'll just grab a bottle and go keep an eye on her."

"Help yourself to anything in the fridge, Mom, and you can stay, if you want. Ellie and I were just talking about my continuing memory saga." Sarah opens the fridge for her mom and continues talking to Ellie, "Sometimes I think how nice it would be to just remember things, you know, instead of always having to ask Chuck." Ellie nods. "But Chuck is endlessly patient explaining things and great with _story time_."

"Yeah, he's pretty wonderful, even if he is my brother." Ellie smiles.

"That he is." Sarah closes the fridge. "I'm happy, Ellie. Really happy. I don't know exactly how it compares with the way things were before. I just know I love Chuck more than I ever thought I could love someone, and I love my life with him. I've remembered the really important things, and if that's all I ever get back of my old life, then that's okay." Ellie and Sarah join Emma at the table. "I still think of this as my new life and pre-Quinn as my old life, if that makes sense."

"Oh, it absolutely does," Ellie responds. "Your life was catastrophically interrupted, so I wouldn't expect your _new life_ to be a simple continuation of your old one. It's more like a rebirth of the essence of your old life: what makes you you, who you became with Chuck, the love and connection you two have. As other memories return, more of your old life will be absorbed into the new."

"I guess I hadn't thought of it like that."

"I've been watching you and Chuck for the last several days. No surprise there, huh?" Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. Emma smiles, watching the two younger women. "You know what I see?"

"No." Sarah glances away, then looks at Ellie and goes very still.

"I see the same woman I watched fall in love with my brother. I see the same love. And I see a beautiful marriage. Not something patched up and limping along, but vibrant and healthy and ... beautiful. Your relationship has new depth and strength, Sarah, albeit with a slightly different tenor. And it's ... well, stunning, especially for those of us who know what happened."

Emma's eyes shine with tears. Sarah looks down, studying her glass of water, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Ellie."

"Any time, Sarah. Now, I bet the natives are hungry. What are we feeding them?"

"Oh," Emma speaks up, "Morgan said Alex was bringing lunch,"

"Right, and all the groceries for the weekend," Sarah adds.

—^v^—

"Just a liiittle bit that way." Molly holds her hands two inches apart, then points to her left.

"Okay. You're sure?" Sarah smiles at her.

"I'm sure." Molly says. Behind Molly, Emma nods her agreement.

Sarah marks the spot with her finger, hands her mom the picture, pulls the nail from her pocket, and puts it where her finger was. She takes the hammer from Molly, taps the nail into place, takes the picture from her mom and hangs it on the nail. "That's the last one. We are really good at this. In one afternoon, we've set out the photos and hung most of the paintings and pictures. I think I'm ready for some lemonade. How about you, Molly?" Sarah looks at her sister.

"Me, too." Molly flops down on the bed. "This is hard work." Emma and Sarah laugh.

"Then lets go."

—^V^—

Molly guzzles her lemonade and runs off to play soccer in the back yard, while Sarah and Emma watch her from the back deck.

"She's happy, isn't she?" Sarah looks at Emma.

"Very, Honey. Why?"

"I want her to be happy. Thank you … for giving her all the things you wanted to give me."

"It's my pleasure. She's a gift. But you're as much a part of that as I am." Emma watches Molly dribble the ball and kick it into the goal Chuck set up for her. "I don't know if you realize what a wonderful thing you did." She turns back to look at Sarah. "And how proud I am of you for doing it."

"I'm just glad you're both safe, Mom." Sarah pauses for a beat. … "And that we can see each other again."

"Mm, me too." Emma drains the last of her lemonade. "You know, I really like Chuck ... and Ellie and the whole extended family. I'm so happy for you." She bumps Sarah's shoulder.

"Thanks Mom. … And it's a good thing you like them, because you do realize, don't you, that you and Molly have been adopted into the Bartowski clan?"

Emma laughs and raises her glass. "Well, I'm honored."

Sarah nods with a small smile and raises her glass. "To family."

**Sunday Morning  
>Ground Zero<strong>

Chuck and Sarah sit on their back deck, feet propped up, enjoying their coffee during the quiet hour before everyone else gets up. Morgan and Alex slept over, so soon the Bartowski house will be pulsing with activity. Coffee finished, Sarah kisses Chuck and pushes him toward the other end of the deck to preflight the Beastmaster for its Labor Day maiden voyage. She goes inside to cut up fruit and chop omelet ingredients.

Having sliced and diced whatever she could find, she goes to clean up the remnants of last night's snacks: empty paper plates, cups, napkins; _you would think a group of adults could find their way to the trash can._ She kneels down to pick up a few wayward pretzels. When she looks up and sees Chuck watching her through the back door window, the memory hits her like a freight train:

_~^~^~  
>Chuck getting farther and farther away. A warehouse. "I'm not working for you." Quinn. "Until I get what I want, you're my soldier." Flash cards. Memories of Chuck. Excruciating pain. Her head about to explode.<br>~^~^~_

She clutches her head and collapses, with a cry of pain.

—^v^—

Someone gently strokes her forehead and places something cool on it. _What happened?_ Pain ... _feels better now_ … The warehouse ... w_here am I? the hotel?_ ... Quinn. She hears a soothing voice, "It's okay, Sarah. I'm here." _Not Quinn._ The soothing voice holds her hand in both of his. "I love you, Baby." He kisses her fingers, one by one. _Chuck?_

She opens her eyes and stares into Chuck's face, full of love and concern. Her face crumples, and the tears begin to fall. She launches herself into his arms and holds on as if her life depends on it. Because it does. Not her physical life, but her inner life—who she is—depends on Chuck in so many ways. He holds her tight, gently rocking, whispering love and comfort. She sobs: letting out the anguish, soaking in his comfort; letting go of terror, holding on to love; holding on to Chuck, never letting go. He rubs her back and kisses her neck, holds her close, folding her into himself, his tears falling with hers.

Finally her tears stop, and her body begins to relax. Chuck wipes her tears with his cool handkerchief, and she wipes his with her hand. He reaches for the glass of water on the coffee table. "Here, Sarah, drink some water, Baby."

She drinks most of it, thirstier than she realized. "Thank you." Her voice is still rusty.

"Come on." Chuck settles them back on the couch. Sarah nestles against him. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

Ellie walks in and sits on the coffee table, speaking softly, "Sarah, how are you feeling? Physically, I mean. It looked like you were in a lot of pain before you passed out. Do you have a headache?"

"Um, not really. Maybe just a dull ache, but nothing more."

"Good. Here, these should help." Ellie hands Sarah two pills and stands up.

Sarah swallows the pills with the rest of the water, then looks at Ellie. "Thank you. Where is everybody?"

"They went out for breakfast and to pick up some things we need for the cookout tomorrow."

_Convincing cover story for clearing everyone out to give us some space. Ellie is a much better spy than Devon._ Sarah looks up at her sister-in-law. "Thank you, Ellie. I'm sorry I, um …"

"Babe, it's okay." Chuck gives her hand a squeeze.

"Sarah you have nothing to be sorry for. We were just worried about you," Ellie assures her and turns to leave.

"Ellie, ah, you can stay. You should hear this, and I don't need to tell it twice." Sarah looks at Chuck. "It was a memory. Quinn. I remembered what he did to me."

Ellie sits down, and Sarah tells them what happened. "I was on the floor picking up pretzels. When I looked up and saw Chuck looking at me through the back door, it triggered a memory, a really bad one." She looks at Chuck and sees by his expression that he knows exactly which memory. "We were on the bullet train. Quinn tranqued me, and the cars began to separate, and you were looking at me through the door of your car. I was trying to get to you, but I couldn't, and you kept getting farther and farther away." Ellie gives her a sympathetic nod. Everyone knows this part of the story, but nobody knows what happened after that, until she woke up in the hotel room with no memories.

Sarah fills in the blanks. She tells them about waking up in the dark warehouse, save a few shafts of sunlight behind her and a lone bulb casting a small circle of light on the spot where she was tied to a metal chair. "Quinn told me he was going to remove the rotten Intersect with a suppression device and then send me on a mission to get the pristine version. I told him 'I'm not working for you,' and he said, 'You are; until I get what I want, you're my soldier.'"

She tells them she activated her emergency beacon. She looks at Chuck, puts her hand in his. "Quinn had these cards with holographic patterns. He called them flash cards, stimulants, and used them to force me to flash. The first flash contained an image of our wedding, and I realized what he was doing. He was making me forget you."—Tears slide down her cheeks.—"I fought him, Chuck. I tried so hard to hold on to you ... not to forget you, but he was taking you from me, memory by memory." Chuck draws her close, kisses her forehead, his face streaked with tears. Ellie bites her lip and wipes her tears before they can fall.

"He would show me an image, and a flash would start and the pain, and I couldn't stop flashing. Images, memories of you were there, and then they were just ... gone. At first, I was aware of vanishing memories and pain. Then there was only pain: mind-searing pain. Then … nothing."

They sit in silence. Ellie wipes her tears and puts her hand on Sarah's knee. "You guys need a few minutes. I know I do. We can talk more after a while, or whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, Ellie."

"Thanks, Sis."

Chuck takes Sarah's face in his hands, holding her gaze and brushing the tears away with his thumbs. He drops soft kisses on her forehead and under both eyes. She reaches behind his head and pulls him in for a lingering kiss, meant to reassure rather than arouse. She pulls away and locks eyes with him. "Chuck, I'm okay, or I will be. It was a terrifying memory, but it's over. All of it. And we won. Quinn can never hurt us again."

—^v^—

Chuck and Sarah find Ellie in the kitchen, standing at the sink, looking out the window at the big back yard. Sarah puts a hand on her shoulder. "Ellie, are you okay?"

Ellie turns and smiles at her sister-in-law. "I think that's my question."

"I'll be fine. Honest." Sarah smiles at her sister-in-law. "I am a little hungry, though."

"I just made some chicken salad. How does that sound?"

"It sounds kind of wonderful, actually."

They sit at the table on the back deck. Ellie looks at Sarah over her glass of peach tea. "Sarah I think this could actually be a good thing, remembering ground zero, so to speak."

Chuck furrows his brow, but Sarah perks up. "What do you mean?"

"I think it may help your brain … umm … rewire itself. Or as Chuck would say, reboot."

"Okay. How? And remember I'm not a neurologist." Sarah quirks a teasing eyebrow at Ellie.

"Well, remember I said my latest version of the Intersect integrated with the brain? That's something that the buggy Intersect did, too, but in the wrong way and with disastrous results, whether by accident or design, I don't know."

Chuck and Sarah nod.

"The bad Intersect's programming got some wires crossed, so to speak. In the bad Intersect, when a flash was triggered, information was retrieved from the Intersect. Then, the crossed wiring caused it to grab related memories from the brain. If there were no related memories, it grabbed random memories, like in Morgan's case. Also because of the faulty wiring, it didn't, or couldn't, reconsolidate/rewrite the memory. Therefore, the brain's original memory was lost. The backups were still there, but the brain had temporarily lost the neural path to find them." Ellie pauses.

Sarah nods for her to continue.

"So far, so good." Chuck nods.

"I've had a theory, but until Sarah described what Quinn did, that's all it was. Now I'm more certain what I think happened: Quinn used the bad Intersect as a portal into Sarah's brain and the faulty wiring as a way of extracting specific memories. Chuck you said Quinn said he had studied the Intersect, and Sarah you said he showed you a clip from your own video log and handed you Chuck's file. So he searched those sources, and maybe others, for information related to Chuck and your last five years that would probably be in the Intersect. Then he coded that information into the holographic flash cards."

"Like creating QR codes?" Sarah asked.

"Right, but more complex and Intersect specific, and normally completely harmless, if not for the buggy wiring. The cards triggered a flash on Chuck-specific information in the Intersect, and the faulty wiring pulled related information from other areas of your brain. As you kept flashing, it was like unraveling a sweater. One memory pulled another and another and another. Then because the defective Intersect prevented your brain from rewriting the information, your original memories were lost. Your brain didn't know where to find the backups, until sensory or emotional triggers helped it over time."

"Wow, Sis, that really makes sense."

Sarah nods. "Yeah, it does."

"Sarah, when you had those nightmares that first night, they all dredged up your biggest fear: losing Chuck. Even though, at the time, you had forgotten that losing Chuck was your biggest fear." Ellie smiles at Sarah.

Sarah crinkles her brow. "So my brain was trying to get back to ground zero?"

"Yes, I think so ... through your fear. But, for obvious reasons, part of your brain didn't want to remember ground zero at all."

"But now that I have, you think it will help my brain ... find its backups?"

"No guarantees, but maybe."

Sarah nods, lost in thought.

"Now, I think I may go run an errand or two," Ellie says, clearing the table.

"Don't go on our account, Ellie. Chuck and I are going upstairs for our Sunday afternoon nap." Sarah looks at Chuck, who raises his eyebrows in response. "So, you can have the house to yourself for a while. I'm sure you could use the down time."

"Well, if you're sure."

"We're sure, right Chuck?"

"Yeah, El, make yourself at home."

Chuck follows Sarah up the stairs to their bedroom. "Okay, Sarah. We don't usually take a Sunday afternoon nap. Are you sure you're feeling okay? No headache?"

"I'm okay, Chuck. Really. No headache. I just need some alone time with you. Time to be close. Time to heal."

Chuck pulls her close. "He didn't take me away, Sarah. I'm right here, where I'll always be."

They close the door on the rest of the world and spend the afternoon healing: washing away the sense of violation with tender intimacy and replacing it with love.

—^v^—

Sarah comes into the kitchen to help Ellie with dinner. "Hey, Ellie, what can I do to help?"

"Ahh." Ellie jumps. "Sarah, you startled me."

"Sorry."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much. Pretty great, in fact. Thank you. How about you? Did you have a quiet afternoon."

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Ellie hands Sarah a bag of carrots. "And yes, it was wonderful. I can't remember the last time I've had such a peaceful afternoon. ... Would you mind doing the salad?"

"I can do that. But someday I want you to teach me the secret of your pot roast."

"Deal."

The highlight of everybody's day is Ellie's pot roast dinner. The pre-dinner routine is in full swing. While Casey gets an extra chair, and Mary puts Clara in her high chair, Alex puts ice in the glasses, Morgan pours the drinks, and Sarah sets her salad on the table. Ellie brings the pot roast, which Morgan takes from her with all due reverence. "Oh, Ellie, how I have missed your pot roast. It's my favorite."

"Yes, Morgan, we know." Chuck teases, setting some side dishes on the table.

Ellie hands Devon the carving knife. "And I believe this was what I fixed the first time I met Sarah."

"Indeed," Devon confirms.

"Sorry, Ellie, I didn't bring a chocolate soufflé this time," Sarah jokes.

Everybody stops and looks at Sarah. It's been a long time since she's entered into casual family banter, something she had come to enjoy.

"Sorry, is that not what happened? It just popped into my head."

"No, Babe, that's exactly what happened," Chuck assures her.

"And you pulled the table cloth out from under all the stuff on the table ... and murdered my soufflé." She pins him with a mock glare.

"Yeah, sorry about that." He teases back.

"Then Zarnow kidnapped me, and you rescued me and flew a helicopter ... I went to Bryce's funeral and fixed … corn dogs." Sarah's smiles, quite pleased with herself.

"Honey, that's great. You put all those memories together with no prompting." Chuck bumps her shoulder with his. Ellie gives them a knowing smile.

Sarah shares a look with Ellie, before taking charge of dinner. "Okay, everybody pass your plates this way for Ellie's pot roast. Chuck, since Devon carved, would you serve the plates?"

Sarah had decided that everyone deserves to know what happened earlier, that they deserve closure from all that's happened, just like she does. Over dinner she gives everyone a short—more clinical, less emotional—version of her earlier collapse and her memory of ground zero. "Ellie has a detailed theory as to what happened neurologically, but basically, Quinn used coded flash cards to make me specifically forget Chuck and my last five years. It was a traumatic memory, and my brain remembered the pain from all the flashing, which is why I collapsed." Solemn faces register understanding and sympathy, especially Morgan's. "But," Sarah continues, "now that it's over, it's like the other shoe has finally dropped. I no longer have to wonder what Quinn did to me … or fear the memory of it. Quinn's ghost is gone, for all of us." She raises her glass. "So, here's to a Quinn-free future." Looks of concern morph into smiles, and glasses are raised to the future. "And," Sarah adds, "Ellie thinks that maybe the memory of ground zero will help my brain recover some of its backups." Sarah smiles.

Smiles morph to looks of confusion.

Morgan is the first to speak, "Well, whatever that means, I'm all for it. And good riddance to Quinn's ghost." He eyes the plate of roast. "Now, could I have a little more of that pot roast, please?"

"Morgan!" Alex chides.

"What? I'm embracing the future … which starts with seconds on pot roast."

Everybody laughs, and Sarah smiles at her friend, "Pass me your plate, Morgan."

**Sir (John)**

Sarah creeps downstairs early to enjoy a little bit of quiet before the Labor Day festivities begin. She measures coffee into the filter and pours water into the reservoir and ... voilà. The dark brew drips into the carafe. Black gold. Liquid energy. This is no mere coffee maker. It's a caffeine distribution center … CDC. Her foggy morning humor is interrupted by the doorbell.

She opens the door and smiles. "Abby. What a nice surprise. Come on in."

"I'm sorry for the early hour, Sarah, but Dave and I are going to Seattle for a couple of weeks."

"No problem. I just made coffee. You want some."

"Oh, you know I never turn down a cup of coffee, but I really can't stay long." Abby walks in, but she is not alone. Sarah looks down. "Wow, this little fellow has really grown." Sarah squats down, and her heart melts all over again.

"If you pat your knees he'll put his paws on them. Otherwise he's good about not jumping up."

Sarah pats her knees. "Come on." The puppy jumps up, a wriggling mass of fur, and puts his paws on Sarah's knee. Her hands roam his back and rub behind his ears and under his chin. He strains his little nose toward her face. She juts out her chin, and he gives it a timid lick. "Abby, he's adorable." She remembers the day he first captured her heart.

=—=—=  
>It was their first case, after Chuck was shot. Thanks to the news coverage, Carmichael Industries had a long list of clients clamoring for their services. The Sandersens were friends of Ellie and Devon. Plus, the job was low key, guaranteed safe and non-strenuous for someone who had been recently shot. Chuck and Sarah delivered their final report to their home, a small sheep ranch near Carmel. They had hired CI to upgrade the security of their Forbes top 100 investment firm in San Francisco. The ranch was more hobby than business and provided a much needed escape from corporate pressures and the pace of the city.<p>

While Chuck went over the report with Dave, Abigail—Abby—gave Sarah a tour of the ranch. Sarah could easily see why they loved it there: the tranquil pastoral setting with gorgeous views of both the mountains and the ocean.

Abby is a tall, striking woman, with auburn hair and honey-brown eyes. Though she moves with ease among financial moguls and corporate magnates, she is much more at home in jeans and boots, on their ranch. She and Sarah hit it off instantly. At the end of the tour, Abby showed Sarah a litter of puppies, Australian Shepherds, and explained how they had gotten involved in rescuing Aussies. Abby had fallen in love with the breed, and this had become her passion. Some of the dogs they train to work on the ranch. Others they give to good homes. The puppies were four weeks old, and Sarah had never seen anything cuter in her life. She mentioned in passing that Chuck had talked about wanting a dog. They sat cross-legged on the floor, while Abby told her about the litter. One of the pups singled Sarah out to shower with puppy affection. He wobbled over to her and crawled all over her lap. Sarah smiled when he nosed his way under her hand for petting and laughed when he burrowed his cold nose into her neck. It was instant love for both canine and spy.  
>=—=—=<p>

"I'm glad you think so."—Abby accepts a mug of coffee.—"Dave and I want to give him to you and Chuck. Our thanks for tightening our security and plugging the hole in our firewall."

Sarah's eyes widen. "Really?" A smile spreads on her face.

"Yep. He's all yours. If you want him."

"Of course, we want you." She picks up the new addition to the Bartowski family who climbs his way to her neck. "Chuck will be thrilled."

"What will Chuck be thrilled about?" The object of her thoughts pads into the kitchen. "Hi, Abby." Sarah turns smiling from ear to ear. Chuck's face softens. Then he notices her new fur collar. "And who is this?"

"This is … does he have a name?" she asks Abby.

"No. That's your job." Her friend smiles.

She looks back at Chuck. "our new dog. … Surprise."

"Wow. _Our_ dog? I don't know what to say"—he looks at Sarah's face —"except thank you. I've always loved dogs, and this one is obviously already very attached to my wife." Chuck pets the dog who is quite happily attached to his wife's neck.

"And she to him, it appears." Abby smiles.

Abby gives them a few pointers and enough food and doggie gear to get started. "I can get you started training him in a couple of weeks." With a hug and a wave, she leaves them in their back yard with their new canine companion.

Chuck and Sarah head into the kitchen, their little Aussie at their heels nudging them along the way. Ellie and Devon having found their way to the coffee, are sitting at the table, enjoying the lull before Clara wakes up. Ellie smiles at them, and Devon offers his usual enthusiastic greeting, "Mornin. What were you two love birds doing outside so early?"—He sees the puppy.—"Whoa." In the blink of an eye, the little Aussie is behind Sarah, peeking around her leg with with timid curiosity.

"Honey, you scared him. Poor thing. Ohh, he is so cute." Ellie bends over for a better look at the puppy. "Whose is he?"

"He's ours," Chuck says, clearly happy with the new addition to Casa Bartowski.

"He's gorgeous," Devon speaks more calmly. "Australian Shepherd, blue merle. You know, they are really smart dogs, and sweet, too. Our neighbor has one. I've been sort of researching the breed." He cuts his eyes toward Ellie.

Clara wakes up, and jump starts everybody's morning. Devon feeds Clara, while Chuck and Ellie make pancakes. Sarah washes an assortment of red berries and dotes on her new, four-legged friend, getting him to sit and shake and lie down.

Chuck and Sarah go to the door, their little Aussie bounding along beside them. Chuck tells him to sit. The dog looks at Chuck and wags his tail-less hind end in a way that makes him appear hinged in the middle. Sarah looks at the dog and says, "Sit." The dog sits. Chuck furrows his brow and opens the door.

Alex enters, then Morgan carrying an arm load of games and back yard toys. Alex bends down to look at the puppey. "Oh, he's so cute. Look at his blue eyes. Whose is he?"

"Ours," Sarah says, bending over to pick him up. Alex pets him, and he nuzzles into her hand.

"Aww. What's his name?"

"We haven't named him yet." Chuck scratches under his chin, and the dog lifts his head for more.

"Great. We can all figure out a name for him today, so we don't have to call him _Dog_," Morgan says from behind his boxes. "Now, a little help, please."

—^v^—

The new puppy clearly enjoys being the center of attention, with everyone calling him, petting him, and throwing toys for him to chase and chew. Casey consents to like him from a distance, and grunts at all the attention garnered by a dog.

"Look at his little tan legs and white feet," Emma says, "like he's wearing tan spats and white shoes. You could call him Spats."

Molly says, "You should call him 'Bear,' because he's so fuzzy."

Ellie likes his different colors: the mottle of black and white on his head and back, his tan cheeks and eyebrows, and the white streak between his eyes. "You could call him Patches. It's close to Peaches."

"Your Cocker Spaniel," Sarah says wide eyed.

Everyone stares at her.

"I just … remembered, again," she says with a look of wonder. "Maybe you're right about ground zero, Ellie."

Chuck tries again to get the puppy to sit. The Aussie only wags his hind end. Sarah starts to speak, but Chuck holds up a finger. "Ahh." He tries again, "_Sarah_ says, 'sit.'" Much to everyone's amazement and amusement, the puppy looks at Sarah and sits. Chuck opens his mouth and closes it. "Sarah says, 'lie down.'" The puppy lies down, crosses his little paws and looks at Sarah, then back at Chuck, panting happily. "That is just … do you believe that. What a dog, you are," Chuck coos and rewards the Aussie with lots of petting.

The name game reaches peak silliness, when Molly looks at Sarah and whispers, "Bunny," and the two sisters giggle. Finally Casey grunts, "I almost admire the little fur ball. As much as he has all of you wrapped around his little paw, you might as well call him _Sir_."

The puppy yips and wags his little body, then sits, looking up at Casey. Chuck says, "You like that, do you?" The dog turns toward Chuck's voice. "Come here, Sir." The puppy bounds over to Chuck. "Sir," Chuck says thoughtfully, rubbing behind the dog's ears. "I like it. Maybe, Sir John."

Casey growls, "Watch it, Bartowski."

"Just 'Sir' it is. Sir is fine … for short." He adds the last part under his breath and winks at Sarah, who hides her smile in a cough.

The party migrates outside onto the large deck and spills into the back yard with frisbees, lawn chairs, and assorted balls and toys. Chuck and Sarah take a break from cookout preparations to watch everyone from their deck. Ellie and Devon talk with Emma and watch Clara. If Clara wanders too far, Sir blocks her path and gently nudges her back toward Ellie and Devon.

"Look at that, Chuck. Abby said that Aussies are natural herders, but … wow."

"He is pretty amazing."

Alex plays soccer with Molly, while Morgan distracts Sir from herding duty. He tosses a mini tennis ball for the Aussie, who bounds after it, his charge momentarily forgotten. With a deep sigh of contentment, Sarah smiles and leans against her husband. He puts his arm around her and kisses the side of her head. Part of Sarah feels like she landed in the middle of someone else's life. She never expected this happy, normal life. And here she is on her deck, watching her family, in her back yard. It feels surreal and yet completely right, at the same time.

"Your mom seems to have enjoyed herself this week, Sarah. I'm glad you invited her."

"Me, too."

"It's good for her, you know: being a part of your life, having a family. You've given her a true gift."

"Mm-hmm. It's been good for me, too. I see things a little differently now than I did when I was nine."

"Then you're way ahead of a lot people," Chuck teases.

"Hey, Bartowskis, when you're done with your romantic interlude over there, some of us, meaning me, are waiting for burgers to cook," Casey grumbles from the Beastmaster.

Chuck brings out the burgers, hotdogs, and veggie kabobs and helps Casey man the grill. Sarah hauls out the Labor Day feast and spreads it down the middle of the long folding table: potato salad, baked beans, macaroni salad, and gelatin salad; chili, slaw, and condiments; buns, nacho chips, and guacamole dip. _Spastic colon?_ She furrows her brow.

Chuck sneaks up behind her. "This is almost like preparing for a mission."

"Only not as dangerous." She smiles over her shoulder.

"Incoming!" Morgan yells from the back yard. Chuck looks up just in time to catch Sir's mini-tennis ball before it lands in the potato salad. Then he looks down barely in time to avoid tripping over Sir, who wags his body with great anticipation. Chuck throws the ball, and Sir takes off after it.

Chuck looks at his hand, grimaces, and wipes it on his shirt. "Yeah." He puts his arm around Sarah's shoulder and pulls her close. "I'll take Sir's slobbery ball over bullets any day."

—^v^—

After copious amounts of food and laughter, Chuck stands. "In a minute, we can dig into Molly's brownies and Emma's homemade ice cream, but first I want to propose a toast ... with this very elegant, plastic cup. I know this is where I should say I'm grateful for our new home, and how happy I am to share this moment with all of you. And I am … grateful for all of that. But mostly, I'm grateful for my wife. He blinks his eyes and clears his throat, "I'm grateful that …" He opens his mouth, but nothing else comes out.

Sarah stands beside him, laces her fingers with his, and finishes, "He's grateful that I'm here." She gives him a quick kiss. "Me, too. I'm grateful you didn't give up on me, that you found me and loved me back to myself." She looks at everyone around the table, "And we're grateful—I'm grateful—for my family and friends who stood by us."

Plastic cups are raised, and the celebration continues long into the evening with ice cream and brownies, video games and board games, and the pleasure of being together.

**Maybe Babies**

The kitchen clean and tidy, the food put away, the ritual of hugs observed, and local guests departed, the Woodcombs and the Bartowskis turn in early.

Chuck and Sarah peer over the edge of Sarah's side of the bed, watching Sir circle three times before curling up on his little bed. Chuck nuzzles Sarah's neck, kissing her favorite spot. "So, how does it feel, Mrs Bartowski?"

"Mmm, you know I love it when you kiss my neck."

"Yeah. I was thinking more about the the part about us being in our own home, complete with our own dog."

She looks at him. "Oh, that." She smiles. "It feels … perfect." She kisses him, letting the kiss say things that words can't express. She pull back. "Chuck, I've been thinking."

He pushes a strand of hair out of her eyes, leaving his hand on her neck, and waits for her to continue.

"I want to make a baby. With you. I want us to make a baby."

Chuck smiles and cocks his head, his eyes full of love.

"I mean we have the house and the dog. Maybe it's time to stop practicing and try for real … to start a family."

Chuck beams. "Really?" She swallows, as he trails kisses from her jaw to her collar bone.

She thrums with desire ... for him, for babies, for a lifetime of this. "Yesss ... really."

"And this"—he kisses her forehead—"change"—just below her eye—"would start"—her lips—"when?" His face hovers over hers.

"Effective immediately." She pulls him down to begin satisfying a few of those desires.

Operation Baby Bartowski begins.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** First a note of acknowledgment that "Sir" has been used before in the fandom for the name of Chuck's dog. After I had written my dog section, someone told me that Frea used the name (Sir Chewbacca Bartowski the Fourth) in her story "That Which Is Greater." My apologies for the unintentional duplication. I hope Frea will view it as a compliment and a testament to her superior taste in dog names. ;)

My thanks to ww1posterfan for some of her earlier memory research (posted in the comments under the ChuckThisBlog post Past is Prologue) and for talking through some of my memory/Intersect stuff. My theory is a hybrid of science and fiction based on her research and some of my own.


	12. Future Bartowskis and the Bartowskis Fut

**~ The Future Bartowskis and the Bartowskis' Future~**

**Wednesday, March 12, 2014**

Sarah turns toward Chuck's empty side of the bed and pulls his pillow against her chest. He insisted on getting up and doing breakfast, citing an extra tiring week and their anniversary as the reasons that he should get up, and she should stay in bed.

Today is their beach anniversary. Exactly two years ago today, she went to find herself and ended up at their beach. If someone had told her then about the life she would be living now, she would have thought they were ten rounds short of a full mag. To this day, she has no rational explanation as to why she drove to that beach, except that her heart was looking for Chuck. And he found her.

She hears Chuck's quiet singing as he walks downstairs, and she smiles as she listens for the rest of the morning routine: Dog food tumbles into Sir's bowl. Humming and quiet singing. The refrigerator door opens. The microwave door shuts. More humming as he shuffles across the kitchen. The back door opens to let Sir out. The microwave dings. And the coffee maker gurgles as it sucks up the last of the water from its reservoir.

Sarah gets up and quickly throws on some jeans and a long sleeved tee, then creeps downstairs to watch Chuck. Sir howls to come in_._ Well, it's not a howl exactly. There's a trill in Sir's howl that makes it sound more like … singing. He doesn't howl, he warbles … or yodels, depending on the occasion.

Once downstairs, she steals down the short hallway to the kitchen, where she stays out of view so she can watch Chuck. It's one of her favorite things to do. Watching Chuck. Two years ago, she watched him every chance she got to try to get to know the man she loved but barely remembered. Now, she watches him just because she loves him. Because he makes her smile.

She watches with pure adoration and the smile he always evokes. Chuck sits at the table, oblivious to the bits of banana in his hair and the smears of cereal and peaches on his face. _No wonder we buy so much baby food. Half of it ends up on Chuck_.

She thinks back to the night they decided to get pregnant.

=—=—=  
><strong>Operation Baby Bartowski.<strong>

Piece of cake. Or at least that's what she thought. They had been trying for two and a half years not to get pregnant, so it seemed logical that all they would need to do to get pregnant would be to stop trying not to get pregnant. Apparently there's more to it than that. Sarah was expecting to be … expecting. She was expecting to buy an EPT, not another month's supply of feminine products, but things didn't turn out as expected.

Then Carmichael Industries exploded with new clients, and even a few new employees. Two months came and went with no pregnancy. Abby told Sarah that sometimes babies take time. She said it took her and Dave almost a year to conceive. Ellie reminded Sarah that stress is often a factor, "Not that I'm implying your life has been stressful, Sarah." Both women chuckled. "It'll happen. In the mean time, relax and just … enjoy each other. Give it a year before you worry. We can talk about it more at Thanksgiving, when you and Chuck come to visit."

So, that's what they did. They dove into their cases, enjoyed each other … thoroughly, and stopped expecting anything. They resigned themselves to the fact that Operation Baby Bartowski was not to be rushed.  
>=—=—=<p>

Sir yips and wags his whole body in delight at their morning ritual. It's his happy dance. He is quite zealous in his self-appointed duties as meal monitor and floor cleaner.

Getting pregnant snuck up on her, partly because of their exhausting schedule and partly because she had accepted that it was going take a while.

=—=—=  
><strong>Pregnant?<strong>

They left home at the crack of ridiculous to catch a 6:00 flight to Chicago. The flight bounced them safely from LAX to O'Hare for a noon arrival, the day before Thanksgiving. Ellie hugged them both, then took a good look at her sister-in-law. "Sarah. You don't look so good. Are you feeling okay?"

"No. But I'm sure I'll be fine, once my stomach gets the memo that we landed. That was the roughest flight I have ever been on. There was turbulence practically the whole way, but the Dramamine should kick in soon."

Devon took Sarah's bag. "Okay. We can chat in the car. I bet you guys are tired. We have the guest room all set up."

"I can't wait for you to see the house," Ellie said with boundless enthusiasm. Where did she get the energy? "And Clara is talking … finally. We've been showing her pictures from Labor Day, and she can't wait to see Uncle Tuck and Aunt Sawah."

The house was fantastic: a beautifully restored two-story, with a nice back yard. The guest room in particular was calling Sarah's name. After a month of non-stop cases, the early flight, and the turbulence, she felt beat. And when was that Dramamine going to kick in? She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the bed and sleep until Christmas. But that would leave Ellie to get ready for Thanksgiving by herself, so after a power nap, she pried herself off the bed and went to the kitchen to help Ellie with T-day preparations. Sarah sliced and diced, and Ellie put the pies in to bake. All was well until the giblets and broth began to boil … and Sarah's stomach started to rebel. "So, Ellie, do you want me to set the table and get it all ready for tomorrow?" _Anything to get out of the kitchen._

"Oh, good idea, Sarah, thanks. You know as many times as I've done this I always feel like I'm forgetting something." Ellie looked up at Sarah and raised an eyebrow. She pointed to a dish on the counter. "Have a peppermint, Sarah. It'll help settle your stomach."

Sarah's eyes widened. "How did you … "

"I'm a doctor, remember? … The table can wait until tomorrow. Why don't you go unpack, and I'll call you when the guys get back with the pizza."

"Thank you, Ellie. That sounds great."

—^v^—

After dining on Chicago's famous pizza, Sarah went to bed early, completely exhausted, and slept until three in the morning, Burbank time. Chuck was spooned behind her. With a deep sigh of contentment, she tightened his arm around her, snuggled closer, and drifted back to sleep. Two hours later, she woke again feeling much more than contentment. Chuck nuzzled her neck and planted an innocent kiss on the slope of her neck, igniting unexpected and rather intense desire. "How are you feeling?" he whispered.

She swallowed a moan. "Like if you stop what you're doing, I may have to hurt you."

So he didn't stop, until they lay cuddled together, spent and content. Chuck wrapped his arms around her. "Where did all that come from, so early in the morning? Not that I'm complaining, because I'm definitely not."

"Mmm." She kissed his neck. "You started it."

"Now, I wish I'd paid more attention to what I did." He kissed the top of her head and drew circles on her back."

"I love you, Chuck." She felt him smile. "With or without a baby, you make me happy."

"Me too, Sarah. But Baby Bartowski will come along in his, or her, own time. You'll see."

"K."

The next time she woke up, it was to kitchen sounds and the smells of Thanksgiving: turkey roasting, soup heating, dressing and casseroles baking, and … ohhh … that famous Chicago pizza must not have agreed with her.

After a long shower, she felt much better and breezed into the kitchen. "Morning, Ellie ..." The heat and smell of turkey slammed into her like a bus. "What can I do to help?" she asked, trying to hide the wave of nausia rolling through her.

"Good morning." Ellie studied her for a moment and smiled. "Well, setting the table would be"—she paused mid sentence—"or better yet, would you mind going out and sending Devon in?" Sarah brightened. "I need him in here, if you wouldn't mind taking his place playing with Clara for a little bit outside. With these warmer days, we like to give her some outdoor time."

"Sure. I can do that. I would enjoy it, actually."

"If you want, you can even walk to the neighborhood park."

Sarah grabbed her jacket and went out the back door, grateful for the cool, fresh air—still clueless as to the cause of her malaise.

Playing with Clara in the fresh air relieved her queasiness and gave her the appetite of a bear getting ready to hibernate.

It was a wonderful Bartowski/Woodcomb Thanksgiving, albeit the smallest in recent memory—and she remembered all five of them. Chuck rarely had to retell stories any more or explain references. After remembering ground zero, her memories just seemed to be there when she needed them, or whenever something triggered them. The four of them ate and talked about past holidays. She and Devon listened to Chuck and Ellie's funny holiday stories, especially Ellie's first turkey after their mom left. They laughed and ate until they couldn't move. Sarah stopped after generous second helpings of everything … but only because she couldn't figure out how to discreetly go back for thirds.

After dinner, Sarah helped Ellie clear the table and started loading the dishwasher. Ellie stopped her. "Sarah, go relax for a while. Devon and I will clean this up, and then we can all have dessert."

"I'm fine, Ellie. I slept almost twelve hours last night."

"I know. But a kitchen full of dirty dishes and congealing food is not a fun place for a pregnant woman."

Sarah's head snapped toward Ellie, and her eyes widened.

"Sarah,"—Ellie smiled—"I'll eat Clara's blanket, if you're not pregnant."

A small smile tugged at Sarah's lips. "Really?"

"Well, you'll have to test at the right time, but that's both my professional and female opinion."

Sarah's smile went nuclear. Then it faded. "Just don't tell Chuck. He'll buy every EPT in a twenty mile radius."

"Oh. I'm sure." The two women laughed. "No. I'll leave that to you."  
>=—=—=<p>

Chuck's helicopter sounds and Breanna's squeals of delight pull her from her reverie.

She never gets tired of watching him smile and laugh through meal time. The father's love in his eyes makes a new kind of warmth bloom in her chest. Chuck never rushes. He makes every mouthful a game and each touch a gesture of love, just as he has from the very beginning.

=—=—=  
><strong>Pregnant!<strong>

Sure enough. November rolled into December, and it was time to think about EPTs.

Chuck shuffled into the kitchen, and looked at her with his sleepy smile. "Morning."

How anybody could look so sleepy and so sexy at the same time, she didn't know. She was tempted to have her way with him right there in the kitchen. Or maybe the couch. Pregnancy did wonders for her libido. But she couldn't contain her secret any longer. "I think I'm pregnant."

Chuck's sleepy face vanished, replaced by confusion, then understanding. "Sarah. Oh. That's—how do you—when did you—are you sure?"

She couldn't not laugh at him. "Well, I won't know without testing, but I think …"

"Okay then. Let's go. Oh, wait. You need to eat. Have you eaten?" He put his hands on her shoulders and searched her eyes. "Do you feel okay? Any morning sickness?"

She smiled. "I've eaten. I feel okay … except when I don't, and I've been experiencing morning sickness since the flight to Chicago." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "And, I think we have time for you to eat your breakfast _and_ put some clothes on, before we raid the nearest store for an EPT."

—^v^—

They filled the cart with the other things on their list and headed to the drug aisle. Sarah detoured to pick up a loaf of bread, and when she caught up with Chuck, he had placed four EPTs in the cart. She looked at him and put three back on the shelf. He put two back in the cart. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. He gave her a sheepish grin and put one back on the shelf. On the way to the car, Chuck handed Sarah a bottle of water—"drink up"—and gave her a big grin. She narrowed her eyes, but humored him and drank the water.

After putting the groceries away, they grabbed an EPT and headed to the bathroom. They followed the instructions and waited … and waited.

A blue plus sign. Definitely pregnant.

They blinked at the stick, and stared at each other. Chuck looked as shocked as she felt. She wanted this, but still. She was _pregnant_. Help. Then she saw his smile. Happiness won out over worry, and she couldn't help smiling. They were going to have a baby.

Chuck was always attentive, but after that, he was attentive on steroids. He watched her constantly, both openly and secretly. He always seemed to know what she wanted and bent over backwards to makes sure she had it.

Besides his hyperactive sweet side, his nerdy side went into overdrive. He became the Intersect on all things baby. Honestly, Chuck had more information than Google and could tell her anything she wanted to know … and a lot she didn't. After she convinced him that she didn't need to know _everything_ he did, peace was restored to her world.

Every night he massaged her feet and rubbed her back. Every night he would snuggle close and fall asleep with his hand resting over their baby. His love for her was coupled with his love for their child, and all of it was focused on her. It was endearing and sweet ... and a wee bit overwhelming.  
>=—=—=<p>

This time, a locomotive chugs through the air and delivers a spoon full of peaches into Liam's open mouth.

Breanna Kate and Liam Stephen. The Bartowski two-for-one special.

Bre has honey brown hair, and her eyes are beginning to turn a sort of brownish hazel, like Chuck's. Liam is a little towhead with his mother's blue eyes.

She can't imagine life without them, but oh, the shock when they found out they were expecting two babies, instead of one!

=—=—=  
><strong>Twins<br>**The doctor looked at them with a bright smile and said, "Congratulations. You're going to have a little girl."

They looked at each other, breathed a happy sigh, and smiled.

"And a little boy."

Their heads snapped back toward the doctor. "What?" they said in unified shock.

"You're expecting twins."

Twins. As in two. Whatever else the doctor said was just noise.

Of course, Chuck recovered quickly, and by the time they got to the car, his enthusiasm was radioactive. Did he not hear the same thing she did? His mouth was moving. She should say something. "Hmm?"

"Sarah, Honey, say something. You're scaring me."

"Twins."

"Yeah." His grin would have powered New York for a week.

"Chuck, that means there's two of them."

"Yeeeahh." He furrowed his brow.

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it. "It's just that, as much as I want children, and I really do, I was thinking, um, you know, one at a time. Having a baby and becoming a mother is kind of scary … but now there are two babies."—her eyes began to water—"I don't even know if I'll be a good mother to one baby, let alone two."

"Sarah. You're spiraling." He pulled her close, kissed her forehead, and held her. "You'll be a wonderful mother. I promise."

She tightened her arms around him. "How do you know?" she murmured into his shirt.

"Because you have a kind and good heart that's full of so much love. You always have, Sarah. You're smart and forgiving and patient. You had lots of practice on me, remember?" She smiled. "_And_ ... you're their mama lioness protector."

She laughed. "And pregnant ninja. Which sounds so wrong." Her mood lightened.

"Oh, but it is soo sexy." That earned him a raised eyebrow. "You're _my_pregnant ninja, and I say it's really … hot."

She looked at him with a half smile.

"And besides … you're not doing this alone. There are two of them and two of us. That makes it even, right?"

The skeptical eyebrow rose again, but her tension was gone.

"Just be glad I put back the third EPT."

Her jaw dropped, and she couldn't help laughing with him. "Thank you."

"For putting back the third EPT?"

"Well, yes, that"—she rolled her eyes—"but mostly for making me laugh. For making the impossible seem doable." She kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He looked at her growing form. "Or should I say. _I love you, three._"

Sarah's face began to crumple.

"Okay, not the most sensitive thing to say. Too early for twin jokes. Ice cream. How about ice cream? Rocky road. … It's your favorite." He gave her a hopeful smile.

Her half smile returned. "Can we make it a double?"

He coughed to hide his smile. "Twin scoops?" He looked her way—no tears. "Okay. I think we can do this."

=—=—=

Chuck puts sippy cups of juice on Bre and Liam's high chairs and takes his own glass of juice. They take their cups in their little hands, and Chuck holds his glass toward them. "Cheers?" The twins hold their cups out in front of them. Chuck counts, "Ready. Here we go. One, two, three … drink." They all drink some juice and set their cups down.

=—=—=  
><strong>LnD: Labor and Delivery<strong>

Sarah waddled to their CI dining table and eased into a chair, her back hurting worse than usual. Casey, Morgan and Alex arrived with everybody's late lunch/early supper, take-out from their various favorite places on the mall. Chuck was in the kitchen getting their drinks.

Sarah stood up to help … and sat right back down, breathless with a cramp.

"What's the matter, Walker?" Casey was at her side in two strides, looking at his watch.

"Nothing." She grimaced.

"Then why are you making that face?" Casey set his sack on the table and studied his former partner.

By then Chuck was beside her, one hand on her shoulder and one hand on the babies. Sarah straightened up and blew out a few breaths. "It was just a cramp."

"Sarah, Honey, is that the first one." Chuck rubbed her tummy.

"Yeah, but I'm okay, now."

"What about your back pains?" Casey asked.

Sarah gaped at him.

"Hello. Spy."

"Sarah, why didn't you tell me?" Chuck sat down facing her and held out his hand.

She shrugged. "Until now, I honestly didn't think much of it. Back pain has just been part of the package. You learn to ignore it." She put her hand in his and gave him a small smile.

"Any other little cramps you've ignored today, Sarah?" Casey asked casually, as he unpacked his lunch and handed Alex her sandwich.

"I don't know," she said, "I guess. Maybe. But they weren't bad."

Chuck's eyebrows shot up.

"Like I said discomfort has been my norm for a while now. It's probably just a Braxton Hicks. I'm not due until August fifth or twelfth, which is a week or two away."

"Yeah, but Honey, twins can be early."

"Well, we'll know soon enough, won't we. Now, can we please eat and find something else to talk about?" she said, her voice crescendoing in agitation.

"Sure, sure. Of course. How about baseball?" Chuck said, trying to cooperate. "Who's going to make it to the playoffs this year: the Chicago White Sox or the Minnesota …" Everybody glared at him. "Why don't we just eat."

"I think eating is a great idea. I know I'm starving." Morgan set two containers in front of Sarah. "Sarah, you had a bowl of chili with a tamale and sweet and sour chicken with fried rice." He dug in another sack and placed one more container at her elbow. "Annnd … cheesecake with strawberries and chocolate. Perfect."

Chuck's eyes went wide at Sarah's meal choice, but he wisely said nothing.

"Thank you, Morgan." She smiled at her friend, who had been her wing man when it came to her cravings. When no one else was looking, he would bring her any weird combination she wanted.

"You're welcome. You're eating for three. So what, if one likes Mexican, and one likes Chinese."

"Oh, so, you're blaming the twins?" Chuck's tone was mock serious, but his eyes shown with humor. "And which one is the cheesecake for?"

"The cheesecake, Chuck, is all mine. And if you mind your own business and eat your burger, I might be in the mood to share," she teased with a sweet smile and affection.

Sarah polished off the Mexican half of her lunch and hid a grimace. Chuck swallowed, but didn't say anything. Alex nudged her dad. Casey looked at his watch. Half way through the sweet and sour chicken, there was another grimace. Two bites into her cheesecake, Sarah had to stop to let the pain pass. Chuck put a hand over the twins, and his eyebrows shot up.

"That's it Walker. Your _cramps_ are five minutes apart."

"Sarah, Baby, that was a contraction. Was that like the cramps you've been feeling?"

She blew out a breath. "Yes, but that one was worse."

"Come on"—he helped his wife up —"I'm taking us to the hospital."

"I'll drive," Casey offered.

"We'll clean up and let everybody know that Breanna and Liam are on the runway," Alex said, as she and Morgan walked out with them.

As labor goes, hers went fairly quickly, or so everyone assured her. Easy for them to say. And there was no shortage of opinions. Having twins is different from having just one baby, for more than the obvious reasons. As Sarah's labor progressed, she was wheeled in to an OR, just in case there were complications or in case a C-section would be needed. There weren't, and it wasn't. But it was one big plus-one party, anyway—just in case: two nurses, each with a plus-one; the ob-gyn with her plus-one (another ob-gyn); and an anesthesiologist with his plus-one (a pediatrician).

Chuck was Sarah's plus-one, and he kept her sane and focused in the middle of all the birthing bedlam. Typically loving and atypically calm, he helped her focus on him and their babies and forget all the lights and machines and voices. He made the impossible possible. Five hours—and much blood, sweat, and tears and panting and pushing—later, at 12:05 a.m. on July 30, 2013, Breanna Kate Bartowski debuted with great gusts of lung power. Sarah looked up from her next contraction and saw Chuck holding Breanna. The look on his face took her breath away … or would have, if she'd had any breath left to take. Then he looked at her with a smile that melted her heart and fueled her last push. At 12:13, Liam Stephen Bartowski drew his first breath and belted out his first cry. Soon nurse #3 put Liam in her arms. Chuck sat on the edge of the bed, transferred Bre to Sarah, and wrapped his arms around his family. Sarah cuddled her babies and leaned into Chuck, smiling and completely oblivious to the tears rolling down her cheeks. All of the postpartum flurry faded to white noise. It was just the four of them.

Once they were back in their room, the Bartowski contingent poked their heads in one by one to take a quick peek at the twins, promising to return in the morning.

As promised, the next morning, Emma, Molly, Mary, Morgan, Alex, and Casey all showed up with coffee, juice, and bagels for breakfast with the Bartowskis: all four of them. The grandmas took turns holding each twin and Casey gave his approval with a gentle grunt. Morgan set up a laptop at the foot of the bed to stream the party to Ellie and Devon. Ellie squeed, and Devon pronounced the twins and the whole party _awesome_. And so it was.  
>=—=—=<p>

She looks at her family, and her eyes slide to the door frame, which now bears 6 marks, besides the original Sarah + Chuck: birth, three months, and six months for each baby. She never passes that doorway without smiling at one memory or another.

=—=—=  
><strong>First Month Home<strong>

No sooner had they walked in the door from the hospital, than Chuck headed over to the door frame to etch the twins' heights for posterity. He held Bre against the door frame and furrowed his brow. Uncle Morgan set Liam's carrier down, complete with a peacefully sleeping Liam, and walked to the kitchen, returning with a yard stick. "I know I'm not the dad around here, but, ah, wouldn't it be easier to measure her on the floor and then mark the door frame?"

Chuck looked from Morgan to Bre to the door and back to Morgan. "Oh. Right. Good idea."

"Or you could take it from the cards the hospital gave you," Alex suggested.

Morgan and Chuck looked at her as if she had suggested liver tacos for breakfast.

"Hold on," Sarah said, turning gingerly toward the stairs. "She's not going to grow appreciably in the next two minutes."

"What do you need, Sarah? I'll get it." Alex placed a hand on her arm.

"Oh, thanks. I was going to get the changing mat to put under them for the, ah ... measuring ceremony." Sarah and Alex exchanged an amused look.

"Got it." Alex dashed up the steps.

Measured, fed, diapered, and burped, the twins fell asleep. Chuck and Sarah laid them gently in their crib, then fell across their own bed and conked out. Bringing children into the world was exhausting. Their nap ended prematurely with a squalling duet from the crib.

Chuck stood at the crib, looking back and forth between the two unhappy newborns. "Sarah, there's two of them." He was wearing his panic face. He picked up a fussy Liam, while Sarah picked up a hollering Bre, both in need of a change.

"Mm-hmm. I thought you said that makes it even," Sarah cooed as she held her daughter close and reached for a diaper. Bre got quiet and knit her little brow, concentrating on her mother's face. Annnnd … her diaper got a little warmer.

"Yeah, but that was before I understood the baby ratio: that one baby outnumbers any adult three to one." Liam snuggled into Chuck, stopped crying, and tried to put his fist in his mouth. "Isn't that right Little Man?" Chuck spoke softly. He kissed his son's fuzzy head and laid him down to change him.

"Ah, Chuck, you might want to cover him with a diaper while you …" Too late. Liam's stream, hit Chuck's neck and left a wet trail down the front of his shirt, inside and out.

Chuck looked from his shirt to Liam's angelic face to Sarah. "You were saying?" he deadpanned. Sarah handed him a wipe and turned to her own task to hide her smile. From then on, at changing time, Chuck lovingly referred to his babies as Lord Geyser and Ladypoo.  
>=—=—=<p>

One memory pulls another, and Sarah finds herself unconsciously smiling at all of them:

=—=—=  
>Whoever coined the phrase <em>sleep like a baby<em> was woefully uninformed, not likely female, and definitely not a parent. Sarah was thinking maybe a monk … at a silent monastery.

After two weeks of twice the feedings, two times the spit-up, and double the diapers on half the sleep, they decided to accept the two grandmas' offer of help. For two weeks Mary and Emma handled the housework, the meals, and the twins. At first Sarah wondered how it would work, but by the end of the two weeks, the two very different women had bonded over their children and grandchildren.

By Labor Day, the twins were five weeks old and sleeping five hours during the night—sometimes even the same five hours. It was a welcome change from the sleepless nights of the first two weeks. Sarah relished the longer sleep and the absolute bliss of spooning behind her husband without a mound of babies in the way.

The entire Bartowski Clan descended on Casa Bartowski for their second annual Labor Day cookout: Ellie and Awesome and Clara had come a week early. Both grandmas and Molly were there. Morgan and Alex, the newly weds of the group, brought their usual supply of games, and Casey convinced Gertrude to come. To Chuck and Sarah's surprise, even Carina and Zondra showed up to meet their godchildren.

With everybody pitching in, Chuck and Sarah had more help than Downton Abby. Ellie, Emma, and Mary shooed them out of the kitchen, and they didn't dare interfere with Carina, Zondra, and Gertrude, who were laying out the food, just like laying out gear for a mission. They started to head over to the grill, but stopped short, spellbound by the scene at the other end of the deck.

Casey stood there is his honorary grandpa apron, keeping one eye on the grill and the other on the twins, who were napping in their stroller, with a doting Aunt Molly at the helm. When Casey thought no one was watching he would drop a bite of hotdog for his namesake, who had settled himself between the grill and the twins.

As Sarah looked around, she realized that Chuck had been right that first day on the beach. Their life together only kept getting better.  
>=—=—=<p>

Chuck knows she's there. He usually does, but he always allows her the pleasure of watching them. He wipes Bre's face, and she holds out her hands for him to wipe. Liam, on the other hand, is hanging over the arm of his high chair sharing his biscuit with a grateful Aussie.

"Sirrrr …" Sarah warns as she approaches the foursome. Sir bounds over to Sarah and does an abbreviated happy dance, then lies down in mock contrition. She gives him some attention and then smiles at her family. "Good morning." Liam and Bre's little faces light up and they stretch their arms toward their mama. Chuck gets most of the goo off Liam's hands, then kisses his wife. Sarah picks up Bre, and Chuck puts Liam in her other arm. She hugs and kisses each one. "Mm, I love you … and I love you. Did Daddy give you a good breakfast, hmm?" Two hands go to her hair and two to her face. She puts her head down and Liam and Bre pull their faces to hers. It's their routine, and it never ceases to fill her heart with a joy she can't describe.

After breakfast Chuck and Sarah finish their coffee on the couch and enjoy their family. The twins play on the floor and Sir is where he is happiest—right in the middle of everybody. Sarah wondered how Sir would adjust to the twins, but he instinctively adopted them as his family ... to herd and protect. He is amazingly patient with them, and when he's had enough, he asks to go out or seeks refuge with Sarah or Chuck.

At this age, Liam and Bre are crawling everywhere and pulling up on everything: Chuck and Sarah, the furniture, Sir … each other. The latter is a hilarious routine, in which each twin pulls up on the other, resulting in the other one falling down. The cycle almost always ends with neither twin standing.

Today the Bartowskis abandon their morning routine of getting everybody ready to go to work. It's time to get ready, all right ... but not for work. Today is the first Bartowski ...

**ROAD TRIP**

After the final flurry of preparations,Chuck and Sarah are ready to load up the Herder for their anniversary trip. Named after Chuck's old car, the new Bartowski Herder is a dark, metalic-blue SUV that holds two big Bartowskis, two little Bartowskis, two car seats, one Australian Shepherd, and all their respective baggage, toys, and gear. It has a moon roof, an onboard computer that would make NASA drool, and all the coolest CI modified gadgets. It is the ultimate spy car … minus the missile launcher and self-destruct options. Go figure.

Sarah puts a blanket on the ground. Chuck puts the twins on the blanket, and Sir will keep them there. Liam hits the ground crawling. He gets to the edge of the blanket, and Sir blocks his path. Instead of changing course, Liam pulls up on Sir and turns toward Chuck and Sarah, one hand still clutching a fistful of Sir fur, the other flailing for balance. Sarah nudges her husband. "Chuck, look." Sir takes a step toward the middle of the blanket, and Liam moves with him. Sir walks Liam three more steps, before Liam drops to all fours and crawls toward his sister, eyeing her stack of blocks.

"Alrighty then." Chuck puts the last bag in the Herder. "Let's lock and load."

Sarah laughs at the radical change in the meaning of that phrase.

Chuck goes down the check list: "Car packed, dog settled, car seats locked in place and loaded with babies, adults buckled in."

Sarah gives the go ahead, "Operation Bartowski Road Trip is a go."

"You ready for this Sarah?" Chuck is as excited as Sir, who has already panted a thick circle of fog on his window.

"It is kind of exciting. Our first road trip as a family."

"And a little weird."

"Yeah. But in a good way." She reaches across the car, fists her right hand in his shirt and pulls him into a power kiss, then whispers, "What I'm really looking forward to"—she nips his ear lobe—"are four nights alone with you," and settles back into her seat with an innocent look on her face.

Chuck gulps. "Oh, yeahh. Abby's plan is genius. We get Bre and Liam in the day time, and they take them at night." He bobs his eyebrows. "Family vacation by day … honeymoon by night."

—^v^—

Their anniversary road trip begins where everything seems to begin for them ... at their beach. After the Bartowski version of a tailgate party, meaning snacks and bottles and diapers, Chuck and Sarah each strap on a baby carrier and load it with a baby. They walk down to the water's edge and stroll hand in hand along the shore. Sarah thinks back to that day two years ago and how lost she felt. The comfort of her fingers laced with Chuck's and Liam's happy babbling fill her with awe. The thought of all she has with Chuck amazes her. The thought of all she would have lost, if Chuck hadn't found her ... terrifies her. Today, when she looks out at the sea, Chuck's words—not Graham's—come to her on every wave. _Grow old with me, Sarah. The best is yet to be._

"Chuck,"—she tugs on his hand and looks at him—"I love you." She fingers Bre's little hand. "I love our life and our babies. Sometimes it overwhelms me ..." She looks at the horizon.

"What does, Sarah?" He puts his hand on her shoulder.

"How strong the love is. … How happy I am."

"Me, too, Sarah." He cups her cheek. "You … and Bre and Liam are everything to me. I'd be hopelessly lost without you." Then he lightens her mood. "And who'd a thought, right? I bet two years ago, you didn't think we'd be here today, with twins strapped to our chests, did you?"

"No." She shakes her head and kisses the top of Liam's head. "Two years ago, not only did I never expect this, I never expected to get my life back, and I wasn't even sure what that meant."

Chuck cranes his head around two little heads to kiss his wife, who reaches around the babies and grabs the sides of his shirt and deepens the kiss. Sarah remembers their fourth first kiss and would gladly reprise it, if not for the squirming mass between them. Sir nudges their legs, then sits and warbles as they kiss. They break apart laughing and squat down to pet their operatic dog. "Sarah! If I had known you wanted to bend the public decency laws, I would have strapped the twins on our backs instead of our fronts."

She looks at him through hooded eyes. "Wait until I get you in private, Chuck. I plan to do a lot more than bend them."

He gulps. "Well, then, I may have to bend a few speed limits."

—^v^—

After a beautiful drive, extended by numerous tailgate parties along the way, Sarah turns into the Sandersen ranch and drives under the canopy of trees toward the main house. "Chuck, it's so beautiful here … peaceful."

"And just what we need?"

"Yeah." She huffs out a small chuckle.

"It's going to be great."

Abby and Dave come out to greet them. Abby's jeans and boots accentuate her tall, slender frame, and the afternoon sun brings out the copper in her auburn hair. Dave is taller than Chuck by a couple of inches, with a similar build, hazel eyes, and unruly sandy hair. Sir bounds out of the car and runs circles around it. He stops in front of Abby, wagging his whole body. "Hello, Sir." Abby puts her hand out palm down, and Sir sits. "Good boy." She reaches down to him palm up, and Sir puts a paw in her hand. Abby laughs. "You've trained him well, Sarah. He's a good dog." She kneels down and gives him lots of attention. "You can have fun herding a few sheep this week, can't you, Sir?" Sir yips and bounds off to greet everyone and oversee the unpacking of the Herder. Sarah pulls Liam out of his car seat, and Chuck gets Bre.

"Man. These little ones have really grown," Dave says, walking toward Chuck and Bre.

Abby smiles at Liam and speaks in a calm voice, "Hi, Liam." Liam eyes Abby for just a beat, then reaches out to her. She takes him from Sarah. "You are a handsome fellow, you know that? Mm-hmm, and you have your mother's eyes." Liam works his little hand into Abby's hair and makes a grab for her nose, but she intercepts it. She makes silly faces at Liam, which he reciprocates with smiles and baby laughter.

Bre is equally taken with Dave. She squeals and smiles as he jiggles her high in the air and grabs his ears when he rubs heads with her. Dave passes Bre off to Sarah, so he and Chuck and the thirteen-year-old Sandersen twins can unload the car.

"Abby, this was a really generous offer. Are you sure you're up for the invasion?" _Spies may travel light, but spies with twin babies do not._

"Are you kidding? We've been looking forward to it all week. Dave had a blast setting up the crib, hanging a new mobile over it, and attaching toys to the rail. He cleaned up the double bike trailer and the bikes, and the boys childproofed the house. I hardly had to do anything, except a little shopping."

"Wow. I'm impressed."

"It's a fun outlet for him. He gets tired of board meetings and stuffed corporate shirts. Underneath the suit, he's just a big kid. When the boys were little, he always had as much fun with their toys as they did. He's like Chuck in that regard."

Sarah laughs. She watches Dave show off the bike trailer to a fascinated Chuck, two big kids, indeed. Chuck looks over at Sarah and points to the trailer, flashing her a huge grin and two thumbs up."

"Yeah. They are a pair, aren't they." Sarah returns Chuck's smile and waves. "Look Bre, there's Daddy." Bre looks over at Chuck, and soon Bre and Liam are both reaching toward Chuck.

After unpacking, Sarah finds Abby in the kitchen. "What can I do to help?"

"I saved all the chopping for you. Unlike you, I am not good with knives. The boys wanted to do a build-your-own-whatever Mexican night. So I thought we'd do a salad and ingredients for tacos, nachos, burritos … whatever. If that's okay."

"Sounds perfect." _More taco nights and fewer evil cabals._ Sarah sighs and opens the fridge to get the ingredients. "You don't know how much I've looked forward to this."

"Oh, I may have a pretty good idea." Abby gives Sarah a knowing smile. "I still remember what it was like when Lane and Logan were that age. Your babies consume your time, your attention, all of your energy ... and then some. I remember wishing I could have a few hours alone with my husband _and_ have enough energy, all at the same time, to enjoy … things."

Sarah raises an eyebrow. "What did you do about it?"

"My favorite aunt gave us a weekend like this. It was just what we needed to find _us_ again. Then, we discovered the strategic use of baby sitters." Abby pins Sarah with a raised eyebrow of her own.

Sarah turns back to her chopping.

"I'm not assuming anything, Sarah, I just figured a little rest and romance couldn't hurt, at this point."

Sarah looks at her friend and speaks quietly, "No, you got it about right. So, I guess that means I'm normal?"

"Well, I don't know about that."

Sarah's eyebrows shoot up.

"You're pretty amazing, Sarah. You and Chuck are a walking miracle in my book, after all you've been through. Cut yourself some slack and just enjoy the weekend, hmm?"

"Okay." Sarah smiles and takes the advice to heart. "I will."

The main house is built on a long curve with a wall of windows on the west side overlooking a pasture that slopes down to the ocean. That's their view as they build their tacos and nachos ... something Chuck and the big twins turn into a lively competition.

Chuck and Sarah put Liam and Bre to sleep in a small room across from Dave and Abby's room. Abby listens patiently to Sarah's instructions, and then gives Sarah some instructions: Go. Enjoy your night with your husband. Don't come back for at least twelve hours.

The guest house is charming, decorated in modern/rustic, with an open floor plan and lots of natural light. It has a small kitchen and a spacious living room with a gas fire place shared with the master bedroom. Sarah walks into the living room and stops. The room is filled with soft music and the scent of gardenias. There's a low fire in the fireplace and a bottle of champagne chilling on the coffee table. "Chuck, this is beautiful and so … romantic. I don't know what to say."

He circles his arms around her waist. "Say you'll enjoy this family honeymoon—which sounds weird, I know—with your handsome husband and lucky father of your adorable children." His eyes radiate a love that warms her heart and quickens her pulse.

She crosses her arms behind his neck—"It's all I've been able to think about, Mr Bartowski."—and kisses him.

After a glass of champagne, Chuck starts a slow, thorough massage of her neck and shoulders. All tension evaporates. Worries drain away. "Ohh, this is better than ss ..." He kisses her neck. "sex."

"Ooo, Mrs Bartowski. I am going to prove you so wrong." He catches her ear lobe between his lips.

"Give it your best shot, Chuck." She tilts her head back, and he plants slow, deliberate kisses down the slope of her neck and along her color bone. She turns, and he captures her lips in a slow kiss that arouses and consumes. She loves it when he proves her wrong. It's an exquisite proof that begins on the couch and continues in the bedroom, at the end of a trail of clothing.

Cocooned in a blissful haze and Chuck's embrace, Sarah drifts deeper into the peaceful fog of perfect sleep. Unbidden, thoughts of two tiny Bartowskis invade her mind. "Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think they're okay?"

"They who, Baby?"

She tugs lightly on his chest hair.

"Ow. Sarah, I'm only kidding. And, yes, I think they're okay. Better than okay."

She sighs. "You're right."

"If it makes you feel any better, though, I put a baby monitor in the room," he says in an appeasing tone of voice.

She raises her head and looks at him. "You did?"

"I did. I was pretty sure they'd be fine, but I thought you might not be, at least not without a way to check on them."

"I'm sorry. It's just that ..."

"I know. Sarah, it's fine. I'd expect nothing less from our mama lioness protector." He kisses her forehead. "Open the baby app on your phone, then close your eyes." Chuck trails his fingers up and down her back.

With her phone monitoring her babies, she snuggles back into Chuck. "You're the best husband and dad in the world. … Love you."

The next thing she hears is Liam's small whimper, soon followed by Bre's louder protest. She sits up. Chuck pulls her back down, spoons behind her, and wraps his arm around her. "Just listen. You don't have to get up, remember?"

"Maybe." She relaxes back into him. Moments later, grown up voices coo words of comfort, and Bre and Liam stop crying and start cooing back at Abby and Dave. Sarah listens to the quiet exchange as Abby hums, and Bre and Liam drink their bottles. When she hears their breathing even out into sleep, she turns off her phone, and drifts into a deep sleep.

**Thursday**

Around nine o'clock, Sarah walks into the the kitchen in the main house. "Good morning."

"Morning." Abby closes the refrigerator door and appraises her friend. "I don't even need to ask how you slept. You look thoroughly … rested."

Sarah blushes.

"Good." Abby smiles. "Your twins conked out again after breakfast. I imagine the trip and new sights and extra people tuckered them out."

"I'm not surprised. Yesterday was a full day for them. What can I do to help?"

"I think the boys are going to ask Chuck to fix pancakes. I thought we'd whip up some omelets."

"Look who's awake." Dave walks in with an armload of twins.

Sarah's face lights up, reflecting the joy on the two little faces."Good morning," she coos.

"I take it you're addressing the babies." Dave deadpans. "Here, Sarah, I'll swap. You take the twins, and I'll help Abby with the omelets."

"Deal." Sarah takes her babies to the couch and holds them, makes silly faces with them, talks to them. They climb up on her and burrow their heads in her neck, babbling baby wisdom in answers to all her questions.

—^v^—

Sarah listens with amusement to Chuck's long list of activities for them to do on the Monterey Peninsula. It would probably kill them. "Chuck, Honey, all of that sounds really fun …"

"Buuut …"

"But, unless you want us to be too worn out from the family part of the vacation to enjoy the honeymoon part …"

"No, no. We definitely wouldn't want that."

"No we wouldn't. So, let's do the Aquarium this afternoon and have dinner at Rappa's. Then we'll play each day by ear."

"Perfect."

—^v^—

Chuck and Sarah strap on babies and amble through the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Bre and Liam stare wonder-struck at the odd creatures, while Chuck and Sarah tell them about each one. They watch the otters and penguins with rapt fascination, reaching toward them, then smiling and babbling at their parents. Cheek to cheek, Sarah and Liam stare mesmerized at the luminescent jellies. Bre plays peek-a-boo with the fish, leaning toward the glass to stare down a fish, then hiding her face in her daddy's chest.

Worn out from the Aquarium, the twins nap in their stroller, Bre hugging her penguin and Liam resting against his otter, as Chuck and Sarah stroll toward Fisherman's Wharf. "That was really fun, Chuck. I kind of loved it."

He gives her a big smile. "I'm glad you did. It was fun going as a family. I still can't quite believe we're taking our twins to the aquarium."

"I've never been to an aquarium before. I didn't really know what to expect."

"Really? You've never … I love aquariums … aquariums? … aquaria?" Chuck knits his brow. "Anyway, I love them. We'll have to go more often."

All along the wharf, people smile at their babies, stoop to get a better look at them, and remark how cute they are. Sarah projects a casual, friendly demeanor, but inside the Mama Lioness Protector is on full alert. They stroll into Rappa's, and Tony greets them like long lost cousins. Predictably he is instantly smitten with Bre and Liam. "Oh, they are little angelos. But what else would they be, no?" He escorts them to the best seat in the house. "Buon appetito!"

Rappa's has become a tradition, especially on the anniversary of their third first date. For some reason Tony took a liking to them. Chuck swears it's because he's crushing on Sarah ... in a fatherly, non-creepy way. She always points out that after the news coverage of the bank robbery, Tony sent _Chuck_ a card and a gift certificate and fussed over _him_, because _he_ was shot. Whatever. Tony likes them and always finds a reason to give them free cheesecake: first, because they were newly weds; then, because they were heroes; then, because Sarah was pregnant. Tonight it will probably be because they are new parents.

Tonight, just like two years ago, they eat a leisurely dinner, enjoying the view and the company. Except, now there's half the leisure and double the company. Between courses, Chuck pulls out a jar of baby food, but before he can open it, Tony rushes over with homemade, hand-mashed baby food for his little angels, who, he insists, will not eat food from a jar in his restaurant. At the end of the meal, right on cue, the waiter brings them a huge wedge of cheesecake, topped with strawberries and a drizzle of chocolate—on the house—and four spoons: two dessert spoons and two demitasse spoons.

**Friday**

Friday was a perfect and perfectly lazy day. The day's only activity was a long bike ride on the Monterey Coastal Trail, with Bre and Liam riding in style in the double bike trailer ... and recorded for posterity by the camera Chuck attached to the back of his seat. Minimal exercise, maximum fun.

Now, Chuck and Sarah are dressing for a date. A solo date. That quaint custom where mom and dad go out to dinner ... alone ... with no kids ... just for fun. And don't rush home before dessert. Since becoming parents, the closest thing to a date Chuck and Sarah managed, up until now, was a quick fast food lunch, while Morgan or Alex watched the twins. "Are you ready for this, Sarah?"

"Oh yeah. I think I'm getting the hang of this whole honeymoon thing." She turns her unzipped back to him.

"Mm. Me too." His kisses stay just ahead of the zipper, all the way up her back. He circles his arms around her and rests his chin in the crook of her neck. "I am the luckiest man on the planet."

Sarah turns and gives him a quick kiss. "And don't forget it." She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Let's go."

Abby and Dave send them off on their solo date, which is basically right next door. "Just follow our road through the trees and across the narrow bridge. Mission Ranch Resort is the next property over. Dave is part owner, so dinner is on the house."

—^v^—

They sit near the fireplace, at a window table, overlooking a view similar to Dave and Abby's. Sarah decides on a salad and prime rib, and Chuck orders soup and lobster. They eat watching the sheep in the meadow, on the other side of a white rail fence.

"My lobster was great. How was your prime rib, Sarah?"

"Really, really good." She takes a sip of water. "I had almost forgotten what it's like to eat dinner like this, in a nice restaurant."

"Yeah. Dressing up and not getting baby food on my tie or in my hair … or up my nose, which is not pleasant."

"No spit-up down the front of my dress, or worse, down the _inside_ of my dress." .

"And you can feed just yourself and have an uninterrupted conversation with … me."

They sigh in unison. "Tomorrow, Chuck, I'll be ready for bottles and diapers again, but this is really nice."

"Yes, it is."

Sarah savors her Key Lime Pie and offers Chuck a bite. "You have to try this. It is so good." She pokes a forkful of pie in Chuck's open mouth. "Oh, by the way, Abby said that the owner, Clint somebody, wants to meet us, just to say hello and set up a time to discuss the possibility of hiring CI. I said I didn't think you would mind."

"Of course not," Chuck mumbles around his Key Lime Pie.

"She said it could lead to more business, because he used to be the mayor of … Carmel, I think."

Chuck almost chokes. "That wouldn't be Clint _Eastwood_, would it?"

"Yeah, that sounds right." Sarah creases her brow. "Is that a problem?"

"No. Not at all. I just hope I don't say something stupid like, _Go ahead. Make my day_." Chuck does his Dirty Harry impersonation and laughs.

Sarah looks even more confused. "Why would you say that?"

"Honey. Clint Eastwood? Dirty Harry? ... You don't ..."

"Because everyone else does, Mrs Bartowski," an older gentleman explains, "and your husband's impersonation is better than most." He puts a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Keep your seat, Mr Bartowski."

Chuck shifts and offers his hand. "It's Chuck, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Eastwood. I was just telling my wife about your movies. She's not really"

"Hi. I'm Sarah." Sarah smiles and offers her hand.

"And I'm just Clint. That way I don't feel so old, even though I am."

"Would you care to join us?" Sarah offers.

"No, Dave told me it's your anniversary. I just wanted to meet you and get your business card. There are a lot of businesses on the peninsula, and some of us think that a more unified approach to security might be a good way to go."

Chuck and Sarah nod for him to continue.

"We asked Dave what he thought, and he told us a little bit about Carmichael Industries and the work you did for him. The name sounded familiar, and when he said you were the couple that stopped the bank heist, that got people's attention. So, if you're interested at all, I'd like to make an appointment to discuss the project."

Chuck hands Clint a few cards. "We'd be happy to talk to you about it. Just call the office, and we'll set up a meet."

"Good. The others will be glad to hear it. Nice to meet you both. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

**Saturday**

Sarah wakes up earlier than usual, having had more rest and sleep these past three nights than she usually gets in a week. She wanders into the main house and finds Abby on the way out the door.

"Sarah, you're up early."

"Yeah. I was awake so I got up."

"Dave is keeping an eye on Bre and Liam, and I'm off to the barn. One of the ewes is lambing. You want to come?"

"Ah … "

"Dave can send Chuck and the twins down later."

"Sure. Why not." Abby and Sarah and Sir pile in the jeep and head to the small barn. When the jeep stops, Sir leaps out and pauses to yodel, then makes himself at home running in the pasture.

—^v^—

The baby lamb stands on its spindly legs, then with nudging from its mother, wobbles to an udder for nourishment.

"That's incredible. He's so little. I didn't know they could stand up so soon." Sarah watches in amazement.

"Yep, it's a critical thing for baby lambs to stand up early and nurse," Abby explains. "Come on, you want to help dry the first one?"

Abby hands Sarah the blow dryer and holds the little wet lamb.

"Like this?" Sarah uses the blow dryer carefully and fluffs the soft fur with her fingers.

"Just like that." Abby helps fluff his fur. "Now we wrap him in a towel, and … here. You can hold him."

Sarah takes the little lamb in her arms, awe-struck, and strokes his head. "He's so soft." She rubs the top of its head with her cheek, then cuts her eyes up at Abby. "But you don't need to bring him to our door in a few weeks."

"Ha ha. You love Sir, and you know it."

"That, I definitely do. We all do. Our family wouldn't be the same without him." Sarah smiles at her friend … then raises an eyebrow. "But I don't think we need a sheep, just because I think he's cute. Besides, Sir has twins to herd."

Abby laughs. "Touché. But if you had really wanted to take advantage of Sir's herding abilities, you would have had triplets."

"Ohh, that is so not funny." Sarah glares at her friend and then smiles. "Twins are quite enough for _my_ herding abilities, thank you."

"Speaking of ... look who's here."

Chuck walks in bearing twins, followed by the big twins and Dave.

Logan goes to help his dad dry the second lamb, while Lane walks over to Sarah and pets the lamb with her. He asks if he can take it to show Bre and Liam. He holds the lamb where Chuck and the twins can see, and softly tells them all about the lamb being born and being a twin like them. Then, he helps them pet the lamb. Sarah is riveted to the scene, until she needs to intervene, before Bre and Liam try to hug the lamb like they hug Sir.

—^v^—

"What a day." Abby hands Sarah the knife that she has observed is Sarah's favorite.

"I think I've got this figured out." Sarah narrows her eyes at Abby. "You just want me around for my knife skills."

"You got me. Think how much I've saved on band aids this week! And all I have to offer in return is my encyclopedic knowledge of sheep." Abby smirks and hands Sarah a zucchini.

"Funny." Sarah starts slicing. "It was a great day, Abby. I never got to do things like that growing up—family hikes with friends."

"But now you do." Abby smiles and hands Sarah a bell pepper. "Besides, I never got any kickback from cookie sales or conned my way into a governor's mansion for the summer."

"Yeah." Sarah smiles with her friend. "And I bet you even delivered the cookies you promised."

"See? What was wrong with me?" Abby slaps her palm to her forehead.

"Seriously, Abby, we had a really good time at Point Lobos. It was fun and so beautiful. Plus, I was amazed at how good your twins were with our twins: showing them flowers and dandelions, pointing to the seals, and making animal noises. Not to mention carrying them for most of the hike."

"Logan and Lane are the only twins in Dave's extensive family or among our friends. They couldn't wait to have twin babies to play with … once they puzzled their way past the fact that twins can be a boy and a girl and don't have to look alike."

"That puts them ahead of a lot of adults, I can assure you." Sarah handed over a plate of zucchini and pepper chunks. "I suppose you want me to do the onion, too," she deadpans.

While Sarah and Abby skewer the veggies, Dave fires up the grill, and Chuck does double twin duty.

The two families eat on the deck, picnic style around a big play rug that Dave put down for Bre and Liam. After supper, as the sun streaks red across the sky, the adults talk and watch the older twins play with the younger twins, while Sir lies contentedly on his fair share of the rug.

—^v^—

Sarah presses close to Chuck and kisses his neck. "Chuck, this is what normal people do, isn't it?"

His hands roam her back. "What ... set up security systems for Clint Eastwood?"

"No."

"Design secure mobile apps for the President?"

"No, again."

"Stop a virus from hijacking all our country's missile silos?"

She chuckles into his chest and tugs on his chest hair. Chuck can always make her laugh.

"Oh-oww. Sarah, I thought you liked my chest hair."

"It's still there." She gives him an impish smile.

"Well, it won't be, if you keep pulling on it." He kisses her forehead.

"I meant ... that normal people have children and make friends and do fun things together as families."

"Yep. That's about as normal as it gets,"—he kisses the top of her head—"and I won't tell Sir that you left him out of the normal equation."

"Mm, thank you." She sighs and wriggles closer. "I love being normal with you, Chuck."

"Me too. But only with you, Sarah. Normal with anyone else would just be boring."

**Sunday**

As the steam swirls up from the kettle, Sarah thinks back over their day.

=—=—=

After loading the Herder, they said their thank yous and goodbyes, with all the right combinations of hugs and handshakes and fist bumps. Sarah hugged Abby and thanked her for the gift of this time with Chuck. They would see each other soon, not for such a long holiday, but work takes them back and forth often enough to keep in touch, do lunch and friend things.

Exhausted, the twins slept the whole way back, eliminating the need for tailgate parties and getting them home before dark. After unloading the car and unpacking their bags, Sarah threw a load of clothes in to wash, and Chuck started on dinner. With dinner in the oven and clothes in the washer, they bathed, fed, and diapered Bre and Liam, then rocked them to sleep. Chuck went downstairs to put dinner on the table, and Sarah lingered just a few more minutes to watch her babies sleep, one of her favorite things to do, along with watching Chuck. They finished their anniversary weekend, as her new life had begun, with candlelight, Catawba, and Chuck's famous chicken pepperoni ... her favorite for many reasons.

=—=—=

The kettle's whistle pulls Sarah from her wool gathering. She takes Chuck a mug of hot cocoa and sits beside him on the couch. She scoots close, props her feet next to his on the coffee table, and leans against him. Sir is stretched out under their legs, and their babies are sleeping peacefully in the upstairs nursery.

Cozy, homey, simple.

And perfect.

Behind the white picket fence and the red door, inside the white house, Sarah has what she has always wanted. Home.

Her dad and the CIA gave her plenty of road trips, but they never gave her what Chuck did. With Chuck, she can have all the adventures she ever wanted …

And then come home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I hope you like the post series galaxy I've created in the Chuckverse for Chuck and Sarah and their future life and adventures together. I set out to write a canon compatible story that is faithful to the series and to the characters we love ... a story that flows out of the finale and paints the details of Chuck and Sarah's happy future that S5 began to sketch for us.

If I write more stories, they will very likely be in this galaxy. I'm sure at some point I'll be tempted to do just that, but for the next little while, I need a bit of a break. It's time to read some of the wonderful Chuck stories I've fallen behind on.

Thanks for reading. To those of you who have encouraged me with your reviews, I can't thank you enough. Drop me a final word if you like, and let me know how the story turned out for you.

~Thinkling


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